Chemistry
by Sherlocks Science of Deduction
Summary: Her name was Brandi Preston. She came into our lives without warning, and changed them forever. And for that, I will be eternally grateful. - Slash
1. A New Tenant to 221

It was a lovely Tuesday morning in central London as Brandi Preston strode confidently down Baker Street. She stopped outside the door labeled '221' and knocked briskly on the peeling wood. There was a bit of bustle inside, but soon the landlady, Mrs. Hudson, opened the door with a large smile on her face. "Brandi! Oh love has the day finally come?" Mrs. Hudson asked, wrapping her arms around Brandi.

Brandi smiled and hugged the older woman back. "Yes Mrs. Hudson, the day has finally come! They finished with the renovations on 221C yesterday. So I can finally move in!" Brandi replied happily.

"Well then get inside you! Someone like you, all skin and bones, you'll catch a cold in this sort of weather!" Mrs. Hudson fussed as she ushered Brandi into the hallway of 221.

Brandi smiled again as she hung her coat and scarf on the wrack beside the door. "So the other tenants upstairs," she said looking up the stairs to the landing. "What are their names again?"

"The loud one is Sherlock," Mrs. Hudson explained, "and the one who always wears the jumpers is John."

Brandi laughed. "Lord how would you tell them apart if they both wore jumpers and were loud at the same time?" she asked.

Mrs. Hudson chuckled as well. "Well Brandi, that would require some professional assistants."

Brandi smiled widely before pulling her keys out of her pocket and walking over to 221C's door. She glanced at Mrs. Hudson before pushing open the door and walking down the steps, Mrs. Hudson at her heels, and into her new flat.

The floors had been redone as a beautiful cherry hardwood; and the walls had been painted white with one wall painted a soft grey/silver. A thick, very large shag carpet sat in the center of the floor, and on either side of that sat an old leather sofa. A keyboard and microphone sat in one corner. The TV had been mounted above the fire place and selves hung on either side of it. But it was the wall art that truly made Brandi beam.

The wall was lined with bookshelves and posters of all of Brandi's favorite things. The posters consisted mainly of Harry Potter, Lord of the Rings, Supernatural, Doctor Who, Merlin, and the Avengers. Her book collection was mostly old medical journals, of course her Harry Potter and Lord of the Rings books, old Doctor Who and Avengers comics, and her extensive movie collection.

"Oh this is amazing!" Brandi exclaimed, walking around to look at all of the new things.

Mrs. Hudson nodded. "You are more into this 'pop culture' stuff than I thought you were," she noted.

Brandi rolled her eyes. "Oh come on Mrs. H, don't tell me you never read Lord of the Rings or watched a single episode of Doctor Who!" she cried.

Mrs. Hudson waved the comment off. "I'm not saying any more dear. Now you get yourself settled and I'll see you later."

Brandi nodded. "See you later, Mrs. Hudson!"

Once Mrs. Hudson was up the stairs and gone, Brandi collapsed onto the couch. Time for Netflix and not getting off the couch for as long as possible.


	2. Just Try and Be Nice to Her

Sherlock Holmes sat in the living room of 221B staring blankly at the wall. John Watson wandered in from the kitchen caring a cup of tea and his laptop under his arm. "What's up?" John asked as he sat down in his chair.

"We have a new neighbor, John," Sherlock stated.

John nodded. "Yeah the new tenant in 221C," he said. "She's been having the place renovated for the past three weeks."

Sherlock looked at John incredulously. "Seriously?"

John rolled his eyes. "_Yes_, Sherlock. I can't believe you haven't noticed it before. We've had workmen in and out of 221 every day."

Sherlock sighed and waved it off. "Irrelevant."

John shook his head and opened his laptop. "So what've you deduced about her?" he asked as he typed away on the keys.

Sherlock shot John an annoyed look. "Are you just asking so that you can put my deductions up on your blog again?"

John looked up and slowly closed his laptop. "No," he replied cautiously.

Without warning, Sherlock jumped to his feet and began pacing the room. His shoulders were tense but his eyes had that sparkle they got when he was deducing someone. "She's a fan of much pop culture. From the boxes I saw sitting in the hall, she likes Lord of the Rings, Harry Potter and Doctor Who, among other things."

"Wait a minute I thought you hadn't noticed she was moving in!" John pointed out.

Sherlock shot John a sharp look. "_You_ said I hadn't noticed. But I actually had. I'm not an idiot John!" shouted.

John jumped to his feat. "Would you keep it down! You're going to scare her off!"

"You're shouting too!"

John groaned and flopped back into his chair. "Just try and be nice to her, okay?" he asked softly. "From what I hear from Mrs. Hudson, she's a really sweet girl who just got a new job and is trying to make her way. Just...try not to scare he away."

Sherlock sighed and collapsed onto the couch. "Fine."

John nodded and opened his laptop back up. "Thank you, Sherlock."


	3. A New Assistant for Molly Hooper

Brandi and Molly Hooper walked briskly down the hall to the morgue at Bart's Hospital. It was taking Brandi a while to adjust to the smell of rubbing alcohol and death and decay. Molly had promised her that she'd get used to it, but Brandi wasn't quite sure.

"So what made you decide to become a mortician?" Molly asked as they walked into the morgue.

Brandi glanced at the body bag on a cold metal table. Not that the person in the bag minded at all. "Umm," Brandi said looking around the room as Molly disappeared into a closet. "Guess I always liked the dead better than the living," Brandi said a bit louder so that Molly could hear her. "Ya know...much less annoying."

Molly's muffled laugh filled the morgue. "That sounds like someone I know," she replied.

Brandi raised an eyebrow as Molly walked out of the closet carrying a large stack of files. "And who would that be?" she asked curiously.

Molly dropped the files on a table with an echoing thud. She waved off Brandi's question. "Oh no one. I'm sure you'll run into him here at some point."

Brandi nodded slowly and flipped open the file that Molly handed her. "So what's this one about..."


	4. Close Proximity

-**New Blog Entry**

**Date:** 13, August

A new tenant moved into the flat 221C below us. Sherlock says she's really into pop culture. From what he saw in the boxes, she likes to read Lord of the Rings and Harry Potter. And apparently she likes to watch Doctor Who. I'm thinking of inviting the New Girl (we don't actually know her name) and Mrs. Hudson over for dinner Friday. I know Sherlock would never forgive me if I did. But it gives him a chance to deduce new things about the New Girl. Hopefully I'll learn more soon.

JW

-**Post**

* * *

-**New Comment**

**Date:** 13, August

No John. We are not inviting people over for dinner. Especially someone we don't even know the name of!

SH

* * *

-**New Comment**

**Date:** 13, August

And for that little comment I am now inviting Greg, Molly, and your brother. Congratulations, Sherlock. You just made the night _worse_ for yourself. Now bugger off.

JW

* * *

Sherlock thundered into the living room from his bedroom with an agitated look on his face. He came to a halt in front of John and just stared at him for a few moments. John slowly raised his eyes and looked at Sherlock curiously. "Can I help you?" John asked.

"You know why I came out here!" Sherlock bellowed furiously.

John smirked and looked back at his laptop. "You shouldn't have complained about me inviting the New Girl over and Mrs. Hudson over then. Especially on my blog. Honestly what if the New Girl found that?"

Sherlock scoffed. "So what if she found it?"

John rose abruptly and looked Sherlock dead in the eyes. "It's embarrassing!" John spat out. "Besides it doesn't even matter, I already invited everyone else and am inviting the New Girl later today."

Sherlock glared at John. It was then that John noticed the close proximity he was to his flatmate. It was...odd...how he didn't feel at all uncomfortable being this close to his friend. Their noses were practically touching! John blushed an sat back down in his chair.

"Just go off and sulk if that's what you want to do," John murmured, turning back to his laptop.

Sherlock gave John a confused look before walking over to the window and picking up his violin. He began playing a soft tune that, at least John figured, calmed them both down.


	5. Sticky Notes

John stood outside the door of 221C. He rapped his knuckles across the door and waited for a moment. John knocked again after a moment but still didn't receive a response. Sighing, John pulled a sticky note with the words, "Join us and friends at 221B on Friday at 7? JW".

Sherlock glared at John as he walked into the kitchen to fix himself and Sherlock a cup of tea. Obviously, Sherlock was still fuming over the arrangements for Sunday. At that was fine by John. Sherlock always had his little episodes before sucking it up and getting through it.

John walked back into the living room and handed Sherlock a cup of tea. "Still brooding are we?" he asked.

Sherlock grunted and sipped his tea. John shrugged and sat down in his chair. "If it makes you feel any better, she didn't answer the door," John commented.

"Yes but like a seventh grader asking a girl out to prom, you left a sticky note on her front door," Sherlock replied bitterly.

There was silence for a moment before John asked, "Did you ever do that?"

Sherlock raised a questioning eyebrow. "Do what?" he asked.

"You know, leave a cute girl a note to ask her to prom? I did. Didn't work, but I did all the same," John elaborated.

Sherlock sighed frustratedly. "No John I never left a girl a note to ask her to prom."

There was silence again before John asked, "Did you ever ask a girl to prom?"

Sherlock rolled his eyes. "No John, I never asked a girl to prom."

John hesitated before asking, "A boy...then?" Sherlock shot John the 'how-long-are-we-going-to-continue-this-conversati on' look. John cleared his throat awkwardly. "Or not. Yeah, probably not."

Sherlock groaned. "Oh what does it matter! If I was gay or if I was straight? If I liked men or women? All that matters to me is the work! It will always be the work!"

John nodded. "Because you don't have friends."

"Yes!"

"Except for me."

"Exactly!"

John smiled and shook his head in disbelief. "For a genius, you're a real idiot you know that?" Sherlock gave John a wondering look. "Those weren't questions. I'm telling you that I am your only friend. As if that wasn't glaringly obvious."

Sherlock glared at John. "Don't state the obvious John, it's incredibly stupid and far past annoying."

John sighed and rolled his eyes. "Yes because I'm an idiot right?"

Naturally Sherlock ignored John. It became apparent that Sherlock had gone off into his mind palace. John sighed and felt a frown tug at his lips.

"Because no one is as important to Sherlock Holmes as Sherlock Holmes is...Not even his best friend."

It shouldn't upset John that Sherlock acts this way. But it does. It had been bothering him more than usually. And that was beginning to upset John even more.


	6. Molly Hooper, Matchmaker

Brandi walked briskly down the hospital hallway, though it was quite a task considering how many files she was carrying, on Thursday morning. Honestly, at this point she figured that this was some sort of initiation that Molly came up with. Apparently being a pop culture t-shirt wearing mortician just wasn't good enough anymore.

Brandi kicked open the door to the morgue with her toes and dropped the files onto the nearest table. She flopped her forehead on to the stack and tried to catch her breath. She heard Molly giggling from her position by the body she was dressing for a funeral the next day.

"You are a cruel woman, Molly Hooper," Brandi wheezed. Molly smiled as Brandi pulled her head from the files. "Katherine didn't even need the files! Why did I drag twenty pounds of files up to the front desk if no one needed them?"

"Just testing your stamina, Brandi," Moly replied happy.

"Oh a happy mortician, I half expect Sam and Dean to walk in the door any second now... I never took you for a prankster, Molly."

Molly smiled again. "I'm not one."

Brandi sighed and collapsed on the stool across from Molly. "No of course you aren't. So what are we doing with this one?"

"Just a simple touch up and they want us to put him in his old suit." Molly nodded to a clothes bag hanging on the wall. "And he goes into his coffin tonight...But more importantly..." Brandi looked up at her with confusion painted across her face. "You have a date at lunch."

Brandi raised an eyebrow. "I do? I mean I know I am having dinner tomorrow with the people I share the building with tomorrow night-"

"Really? Tomorrow?"

Brandi raised an eyebrow. "Yeah."

Molly nodded. "I have dinner too... Anyway about your date."

Brandi picked up a brush and started helping Molly cover some of the corpse's flaws...well...except the whole being dead thing. That wasn't a problem that Brandi could solve. "Yeah since when _did_ I have a date, exactly?" Brandi asked.

Molly smiled. "Since yesterday. A friend of mine, John Watson, came in earlier. We started talking and he made the comment that there seemed to be no available women in London. So I told him to meet my new assistant Brandi Preston for lunch at the cafe on the corner at about one o'clock."

Brandi looked at the woman in disbelief. "You mean to tell me that you set me up on a blind date without my consult first?"

Molly shrugged. "You were complaining about never finding nice guys to date yesterday too. And John's a really sweet person, and your a really sweet person, so I figured you two would be the perfect match."

Brandi started a Molly in silence for a good long time before saying, "You are completely insane."

Molly smiled. "So is that a yes? You'll be joining John for lunch? Because if you stood him up, he'd never forgive me. And if he never forgives me, I'll never forgive you. John is a good guy who's had a bad run with women."

Brandi sighed. "Yeah, fine, I'll go."

Molly beamed as she worked away on the corpse. "Good!"

Brandi rolled her eyes. "You're so weird."


	7. It's All Fine

-**New Blog Entry**

** Date:** 15, August

I have a date. A blind date in fact...wait...no...my date isn't actually blind, sorry. My friend Molly set me up on a date with her new assistant Brandi. I'm almost nervous. This is the first date I've been on in two months. Sherlock doesn't exactly make it easy. I never know when I have to dash off on a case, or run home because Sherlock's gotten himself hurt. I just hope Brandi does get mad at me half way through and storm off like everyone else does. Well, it's time for me to leave. Wish me luck. I'll let everyone know how it goes, though I doubt that you even care.

JW

-**Post**

* * *

John sat in the cafe at twelve fifty-eight with a coffee sitting on the table in front of him. He looked out the window as he awaited Brandi Preston's arrival. _What would she look like?_ John wondered. _Is she short or tall? Brown hair or blonde hair? Green eyes or brown eyes? _Molly really had told her absolutely nothing about the woman except for the fact that she was "a sweet girl that clearly no one ever gave a good chance".

John sat up a bit straighter as a woman pulled open the coffee shop door. She was a bit tall, easily an inch or two taller than John. She had starch white skin that contrasted greatly with her full red lips. Her eyes were a brown so dark that John dared to call them black. And her red hair tumbled to her waist in thick, curly, red tresses.

With a woman of such striking beauty you would expect her to dress in designer skirts and blouses, with heels and Louis Vuitton purses. But this was not the case. The red haired woman wore tight purple cargo pants tucked into a pair of battered combat boot. She wore a black "One Ring To Rule Them All" t-shirt and a dark blue hoodie with the words, "University of Gallifrey" print across the back. And a battered old messenger bag was slung around her neck.

The woman spotted John and walked over to him. "Hi!" she said happily, holding out her hand. "I'm Brandi Preston. You must be John Watson, right?"

John stood up and shook Brandi's hand. "Yes, hello Brandi." John motioned to the chair across from him. "Please, uh, take a seat."

Brandi smiled and nodded. "Thanks."

* * *

The two sat in silence for a while. Brandi studied John's features as he watched the London streets. She sipped the coffee she had bought and cocked her head slightly to the side. "You seem nervous," Brandi commented. John tore his gaze from the street and looked at Brandi quizzically. "Sorry," Brandi said quickly, embarrassed. "My mum always said that I never knew when to not say something." John raised his eyebrows. "It's just, you seemed nervous. Like you haven't been on a date in a while. Not that there's anything wrong with not dating for a while. I haven't been on a date in months. And I'm rambling again, sorry."

John smiled at Brandi and shook his head in disbelief. "No, no, no it's fine Brandi. Believe me it's perfectly fine. It's all fine." John snorted and shook his head. Brandi gave him a curious look. "Sorry. It's just...last time I said that I to person, the ended up being my best friend."

Brandi gave John a happy smile. "Who knows!" she said cheerily. "Maybe something good will come out of this relationship as well!"

John nodded. "So how do you know Molly again?"

"Oh she and I work together at Bart's. Well, I mainly run around delivering things to other people in the hospital for Molly. How do you know her?"

"My friend and I, we do work on occasion at Bart's and she usually hangs around while we work in the morgue."

Brandi nodded. "That's cool."


	8. Wine Solves Everything

-**New Blog Entry**

**Date: **16, August

My lunch date went pretty well...really well actually. Brandi was really nice. Apparently she grew up in Ireland, but moved to London about two years ago for work. I don't want to put to much online. She's really into Doctor Who and Lord of the Rings. It was pretty obvious considering she was wearing a Lord of the Rings t-shirt and a Doctor Who hoodie. We have another date set up for Saturday night. Going to the cinema and then having dinner. It should be interesting.

JW

-**Post**

* * *

"John!" Mrs. Hudson called from the kitchen, she had insisted on helping make the dinner for tonight. "Would you please come put the bread in the oven for me, dear?"

John closed his laptop and got to his feet. He walked into the kitchen and took the tray with the dough on it and stuck it into the hot oven. John crossed his arms and leaned against the counter, admiring the landlady's handy work. She had made a roast large enough for the seven of them, mashed potatoes, green bean casserole and baked beans. "It looks delicious, Mrs. Hudson," John commented.

"Oh thank you dearie," Mrs. Hudson replied, patting John on the shoulder. "Now go wash up and make sure Sherlock is dressed and ready to eat, will you?"

"Sure thing Mrs. Hudson." John walked down the hallway off the kitchen and pushed open Sherlock's door. "Sherlock you'd better be decent-" John came to a halt. Sherlock had his back to John. His...bare...back. Sherlock hadn't noticed John come in and pulled on his dark purple shirt. John cleared his throat and Sherlock turned around. John gulped as he noticed Sherlock was still buttoning his shirt. Needless to say, Sherlock was very...muscular. No, no, no he should not being having those sorts of thoughts about his best friend. "It's about time for everyone to start showing up."

Sherlock nodded as he finished buttoning his shirt, much to John's relief. "Yes, well I will be out in a moment."

John nodded back and rushed out the door. _What the in the world was that? Flatmates, let alone best friends, should not be thinking about each other like that! _John scolded himself. But was it really that big of a deal? Was it wrong for a man to notice that another man is physically attractive? _Yes. Because Sherlock is your best friend and you live under the same roof as him._

John sighed as he closed his bedroom door and quickly changed into a fresh jumper. He looked into the mirror and ran his hands through his hair to flatten out the few bits that were sticking up. John heard a knock on the front door and rushed to answer it before Sherlock could get there.

He pulled it open and smiled at Greg. "Afternoon, John!" Greg chimed happily.

"Hey mate," John said happily, standing out of the way for Greg to come inside.

Greg looked around the flat. "Where's Sherlock then?"

As though he had been waiting for his cue, Sherlock appeared from the kitchen. "Greg," he regarded the detective inspector blandly.

Greg sighed and rolled his eyes. "Hello Sherlock."

Another knock came to the door and it was Mrs. Hudson who answered it this time. "Why hello Mycroft, love!" she said happily. Because, despite how hard he must try, even Mycroft Holmes couldn't manage to make Mrs. Hudson hate him. John would never say it to Mycroft, but he didn't hate Mycroft. Mycroft had helped John and Sherlock out of fanatical troubles more than once, and when john had to take a trip to Germany for a weekend, Mycroft kept a close eye on Sherlock for him. So maybe John...greatly disliked Mycroft, but he could never hate him.

John turned and gave Mycroft a greeting smile, but Mycroft returned it with a 'why-am-I-here' look. John pursed his lips in annoyance. "Nice to see you as well."

"So who else are we missing?" Greg, who was now brandishing a beer, asked.

"Molly and the 'New Girl' as John had deemed her until we get her actual name," Sherlock stated from his place by the window.

Mrs. Hudson appeared from the kitchen again. "John, would you go fetch two extra chairs from upstairs, dear?"

John nodded and disappeared up the stairs.

* * *

Brandi stood in her bedroom looking in the full length mirror hanging from her wall. She adjusted her black a-line skirt for the millionth time that night, and tugged at the TARDIS blue, cabled pullover she wore. For some reason Brandi was far beyond nervous. Maybe it was because not only was she meeting her new neighbors, she was also meeting their family and friends. Brandi sighed shakily and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear.

Before making her way upstairs, Brandi slipped into a pair of matching blue flats, paused the movie that had been playing on her TV (Lord of the Rings: Fellowship of the Ring for those of you who were wondering) and slipped her phone into her pocket. Yes, her skirt had pockets. All of Brandi's skirts and dresses had to have pockets. Brandi glanced in the mirror one last time before making her way up to 221B.

* * *

Not long after John had gone to grab the chairs, Molly arrived. Much to Mycroft's annoyance and Sherlock's happiness, she brought cupcakes. Now Molly sat with Greg on the sofa drinking a glass of wine and in a deep conversation. Sherlock turned a bit when he heard the stair in the hall creak. Then a timid knock came upon the door. Sherlock made his way over, seeing as though no one else was going to let the new neighbor in, and pulled the door open.

He might have looked a bit...cold, because the young woman standing on the other side of the door jumped a bit when she met his eyes. "Umm," the woman said nervously. "Hi!" She held out her hand, which Sherlock merely looked at. "Uh, I'm Brandi, Brandi Preston. I live in 221C."

Without a word Sherlock strode back into the flat. Brandi looked into the flat nervously and then spotted a familiar face. "Molly?" she asked in disbelief.

Molly turned to the door and shared a look of confusion with Brandi. "Brandi? Is that really you?"

Greg looked between the two women and let out a little chuckle. "Well this couldn't get anymore awkward."

"Brandi!"

Everyone turned to see John standing in the hall with two chairs with his jaw on the floor. It was Mycroft who chuckled this time, much to everyone's surprise. "Well Greg, I think it just got even more awkward."

Sherlock smirked. "So it would seem," he said.

"I think I'll just fix everyone a glass of wine then, yes?" Mrs. Hudson asked. "Wine solves everything."


	9. The Weirdest Dinner Ever

Brandi stood awkwardly in the door way. Her eyes skimmed the room as she looked at everyone. Molly looked shocked, embarrassed even. The sandy haired man who sat across from her was watching with an amused look on his face. The tall man who answered the door stood by the window, emotionless, and just watching how everything would play out. The man who carried the umbrella (something Brandi will make fun of him for later) was more or less doing the same. John, who had by now taken the chairs to the kitchen and returned, was staring at Brandi in shock. And then their was Mrs. Hudson, the dear landlady, was tutting about, the wine now forgotten, prepping the table for dinner.

Brandi groaned in confusion and leaned against the door frame. She pinched the bridge of her nose and shook her head. "I need a beer," she muttered.

The sandy haired man got off the couch. "I'll get you one," he said before disappearing into the kitchen. He returned soon after and handed Brandi an opened beer. "Here you go," he said softly. "I'm Greg Lestrade by the way."

A faint smile ghosted over Brandi's lips. "Thanks," she replied before taking a swig of the cold beverage. "I'm Brandi Preston. Nice to meet you."

John cleared his throat suddenly and stepped between the two. Brandi raised an eyebrow at him. _A little over protective for one date._ she thought. "Good afternoon, Brandi. This is quite a surprise," he said with a smile.

Brandi nodded her head slowly. "Yeah, quite a surprise," she murmured. "Suppose it's all three of our faults for not mentioning wear we lived," she said loud enough for Molly to hear.

"Well, um, please come inside," John said standing out of the way. Brandi took another swig of beer before walking inside. John closed the door and stood next to her. "Brandi," he said motioning to everyone, "meet everyone." He pointed to the man who carried the umbrella. "That's Mycroft Holmes," he said.

Brandi smirked and nodded at Mycroft. "Hello Mrs. Gamp, been to the pub recently?" she asked.

Greg started choking on his beer for a moment, and a smirked grew across the tall man's face. For those who were wondering, Mrs. Gamp was a character from a book called Martin Chuzzlewit, written by Charles Dickens; she was known for carrying an umbrella and being drunk most of the time.

Mycroft gave Brandi a sour look. "Oh joy, a jokester."

Brandi shrugged. "Someone's gotta lighten the mood in here. I mean seriously people, who died?"

John shook his head in disbelief. He motioned to the man by the window. "That's my flatmate Sherlock."

Brandi and Sherlock regarded each other with what could only be described as...curiosity. This surprised John. It seemed as if Sherlock couldn't deduce a thing about the young woman in front of him.

Brandi gave Sherlock a small smile. "Hi Sherlock. Nice to meet you."

Sherlock nodded slowly. "Yes...it's nice to meet you as well, Brandi."

There was another awkward silence, until Mrs. Hudson came in wiping her hands on a towel. "Alright you lot," she said with a smile. "All of you get in the kitchen for supper. It'll be a bit of a squeeze, but we'll all fit."

Sherlock was the first into the kitchen, then went Mrs. Hudson, Greg, Mycroft, Molly, John and finally Brandi. Everybody squeezed around the small table and Mrs. Hudson dished everyone out a plate of food. The only noise in the room was the clinking of silverware and glasses. Brandi glanced around at everyone. Her eyes met John's and she looked back down at her plate.

John set down his knife and fork, wiped his face with his napkin, and leaned back into his seat. "So Brandi," he said. Brandi looked up innocently. "What was you childhood like, if you don't mind me asking."

Brandi glanced at everyone again, and now they were all staring at her. "Um..." she said nervously. "I don't really have much to tell. I was born in France, then moved to Ireland with my family when I was two, and um, I guess I just lived there for the rest of my life. Except for now, obviously. Moved to London two years ago for work."

"So no friends? Boyfriends? Enemies?" Brandi shook her head. John turned to the Holmes boys, who were, oddly enough, sitting beside each other. "Okay, boys, I know your itching to deduce her, have at it."

Brandi's eyes widened. "I'm sorry, do what?"

Greg straightened up in his seat. "It's like a party trick, Brandi. See, when they were kids, they were raised to be really observant. So basically they could tell you what you ate for breakfast for a airplane pilot by his left thumb. Sherlock's a consulting detective and Mycroft...is...everything," he explained.

Brandi raised an eyebrow and looked at Mycroft. "Everything?" she asked.

Mycroft rolled his eyes in disbelief. "I am _not_ everything, Lestrade. I work a minor position in the British government."

Sherlock rolled his eyes this time and sighed. "He _is_the British government, actually."

Brandi nodded slowly. "Okay."

Mrs. Hudson stepped in now. "Okay all of you," she said. She gave Mycroft, Sherlock, and John a sharp look. "There will be no deducing this poor girl, you understand me? Do _not_ deduce her unless she asks. Understand me?"

The trio nodded and went back to eating. Soon everyone else went back to eating, except Brandi, who was studying the Holmes boys and sipping her beer. If they could deduce what she ate for breakfast, what could they tell her about her childhood? About how she grew up? Why she actually moved to London two years okay?

Brandi set her bottle on the table and crossed her arms. "Do it," she said to Mycroft and Sherlock.

They both looked up in surprise. "Excuse me?" Mycroft asked.

"Deduce me," Brandi elaborated.

"Oh god, here we go," John moaned.

Sherlock set his knife and fork down and sat up straighter in his seat. "I have absolutely no idea," he muttered before storming from the room and they heard his bedroom door slam shut.

Everyone turned to Mycroft who was rising from his seat. "Thank you for dinner, Mrs. Hudson," he said. "But, I think it's time I made my leave. Good night everybody."

The group remaining at the table mumbled there goodbyes as Mycroft left. They all sat in an awkward silence; sipping there beers or wines, or tea in Mrs. Hudson's case. Brandi glanced at John as he rose from his seat.

"Okay, I have to go check on Sherlock. You guys can let yourselves out. Nice to see you again, Brandi. I trust our date is still up for tomorrow night?" John said.

Brandi nodded. "Yes of course," she replied.

John gave her a smile. "Well that's good. Good night."

Once John had left, Brandi was the next one up. "Well I'm out of here. See you tomorrow Molly," she said nodding at Molly. "Uh, Greg, see you...whenever it is the next time I see you is."

Greg smirked. "See you later Brandi."

"Bye, Mrs. H," Brandi added before slipping out the door.

When she was finally back in 221C in her pajamas with a cup of tea and loading up Iron Man 2 on her dvd player, Brandi muttered, "Weirdest dinner ever."


	10. The Only Puzzle I Need Is You

John knocked lightly on Sherlock's bedroom door. Without getting an answer, John poked his head in the door to see Sherlock curled up in a ball on his bed with his back to John. John sighed and slipped inside, closing the door silently behind himself. He walked over and sat down on the edge of the bed next to Sherlock's feet, the bed creaking beneath his wait.

"Are you okay?" John asked carefully.

John felt Sherlock shake his head. "I couldn't deduce _anything_ about her, John," he murmured shakily. "It was like the Woman only ten times worse. I couldn't even get her measurements because of the clothes she was wearing."

John turned and met Sherlock's eyes. _What color are they? _he wondered to himself. _They aren't exactly grey, or green, or silver. It was like looking at the ocean. Only it wasn't. Sherlock's eyes were much more beautiful than the ocean...Wow...get ahold on yourself, Doctor Watson. Best friends should not be calling each other beautiful._

"Hey, hey, hey mate," John said, attempting to calm Sherlock down. "It'll be okay. Look at it this way, now you have a new puzzle to solve."

Sherlock grunted and pulled the duvet tighter around himself. "The only puzzle I need is you," he grumbled.

John was silently taken back by the statement and the sentiment it showed. He gave his friend a small smile. "I thought 'sentiment was a chemical defect found in the losing side'?" he asked.

Sherlock rolled his eyes and sighed. "Don't push your luck, John."

John smiled and patted his friend's ankle. "No never." And with that said, John was back at the bedroom door. "G'night Sherlock." Without waiting for a response, John was out the door and heading to the kitchen to fetch himself a cup of tea.


	11. Carry On My Wayward Son

Brandi laid stretched out on one of the two couches staring at the morning news at five AM the following morning. A hot cup of tea sat steaming on the coffee table, and a plate of jam on toast sat next to that. She didn't need to be at work for another four hours, so she was still jamming the good 'ole sweat pants and t-shirt.

Brandi rolled her eyes as the reports went to some crap about politics. She rolled off the couch and walked over to the keyboard. It had been a long time, to long actually, since Brandi had gotten to play. Brandi sat down on the stool and started playing a personal favorite of her's (Carry On My Wayward Son by Kansas).

But, what most people didn't know about Brandi Preston was not only did she play the piano, she also sang. And, if she was allowed to say so, she wasn't to bad.

"Carry on my wayward son," Brandi's voice echoed through the flat, "there'll be peace when you are done. Lay your weary head to rest, don't you cry no more."

* * *

John had woken up from a nightmare. It was from the Fall, of course. Whenever he had nightmares nowadays, it wasn't ever about Afghanistan, it was always about the Fall. As he drank his morning tea in silence, the sudden echo of someone singing reached the flat.

"Once I rose above the noise and confusion, just to get a glimpse behind this illusion. I was soaring ever higher, but I flew too high." John rose to his feet and slowly walked over to the front door. "Though my eyes could see I still was a blind man, though my mind could think I still was a mad man. I hear the voices when I'm dreaming, I can hear them say..."

Sherlock shuffled into the room, an annoyed look on his face. His hair was sticking out in every possible way. _It is rather adorable-get a grip Watson!_ John thought to himself. Why on Earth was he having these kinds of thoughts about Sherlock? It certainly wasn't normal that was for sure."

"What's that noise?" Sherlock grumbled.

John listened for the singing again. "Masquerading as a man with a reason, my charade is the event of the season. And if I claim to be a wise man, well, it surely means that I don't know."

John's eyebrows raised. "Singing," he said.

Sherlock rolled his eyes. "Well that was rather obvious, now wasn't it?" he asked sarcastically.

John sighed and shook his head. "So who do you think's singing at five in the morning?" he wondered.

"Well if Mrs. Hudson could sing like that I'd nominate her for an Emmy," Sherlock sighed, flopping rather gracefully onto the sofa. "So I'd say it's Brandi. Ah, the process of elimination!"

John smirked and bit and sat down in his arm chair. "My new girlfriend can sing and play the piano," he bragged. Sherlock scoffed. "What?" John asked.

"Well she's hardly your girlfriend yet!" Sherlock exclaimed. John glared at him. "I mean, one lunch and an awkward family dinner doesn't exactly make you two a couple, does it?"

"I dunno, does it?" John asked, annoyed.

Sherlock scoffed again. "If that makes two people a couple then we are practically married, John!"

John raised an eyebrow. "I'm sorry."

Sherlock ignored John and kept rambling, "Of course I've never seen a ring before so I think we'd still be "boyfriends"."

"We aren't a couple, Sherlock."

Sherlock rolled his eyes. "Well I know that. Obviously. You've stated that you aren't gay on multiple occasions. And you are always quick to mention how we "aren't a couple". I don't need to be told that."

John looked at Sherlock curiously. He almost seemed...sad about the concept of John being a straight man. Or by the fact that he and Brandi were now dating. It was definitely odd. And what was with the whole "of course I've never seen a ring before so I think we'd still be boyfriends" thing?

John sighed and focused back on Brandi's singing, "Carry on, you will always remember. Carry on, nothing equals the splendor. Now your life's no longer empty, surely heaven waits for you. Carry on my wayward son, there'll be peace when you are done. Lay your weary head to rest, don't you cry. Don't you cry no more. No more!"


	12. A Change In Plans

Brandi sat out on the stoop outside of 221. She had actually dressed up for this date. She wore form fitting black slacks, black leather Oxford's, a pink blouse, and a grey peacoat with black buttons; she accessorized with her favorite skinny black scarf wrapped once around her neck. Brandi sighed and glanced at her watch again. He was late. John was late. Was Brandi being stood up? She saw the way he looked at Sherlock, it would almost make sense for it to be him.

Suddenly, the front door slammed open and Brandi jumped up and whirled around. Sherlock and John came barreling out the door. Sherlock skidded to the curb and began looking for a cab to hail. "John?" Brandi asked in confusion. John turned to look at her and all the colour drained from his face. "John, what's going on?" Brandi asked.

"Brandi I'm so sorry," John replied. "It's just, Sherlock and I...we just had a huge break in the case and-"

Brandin shoved her hands in her jacket pockets and cocked her head. "No it's cool."

"Thank y-"

"But I'm coming with you," Brandi interrupted.

John's eyebrows shot up. "I'm sorry?"

Sherlock groaned and turned around. "She said she's coming with us," he said rolling his eyes. "And you're going to say something like, 'Yeah sure, it's just pretty dangerous'. And Brandi will say, 'Well if Bilbo can leave the Shire to go fight a dragon then I can leave my flat for a few hours to track down a criminal'. Then John'll say, 'Then I guess it's fine'. Of course you'd never let me just leave her behind so I guess she's coming along." Sherlock breathed for the first time during his rant. "God this job is becoming domestic."

Brandi gaped at Sherlock. "How did you know what I was going to-"

John raised a hand. "Just go with it," he explained. Brandi nodded slowly. A smirk grew across her face as Sherlock failed at getting another cab. "Huh," John said, "he normally never has a problem."

Brandi sighed and rolled her eyes. "The cabbies probably think that you and Sherlock are drunk. I mean look at you two. What did you get dressed in the dark?" she asked. "Besides, in the middle of the night like this, anyone will stop to help a pretty girl." Brandi strode out to the curb and let out a ear blistering whistle as a cab drove by. Sure enough, the cab pulled to the curb. Brandi smiled triumphantly. "See? Easy!"

Sherlock shot Brandi a look. "Well of course you'd get it. The cabbie visits gentlemen's clubs once a week," he scoffed.

Brandi glanced at John uncomfortably and wrapped her jacket tighter around herself. John shot Sherlock a look as they climbed into the cab, Brandi sitting protected between the two boys. "Hey Sherlock," John growled, "do you mind not scaring Brandi away?"

Brandi shot John a look. "Please," she scoffed, "I'm not afraid of Sherlock."

"New Scotland Yard," Sherlock told the cabbie. He turned to the sort of, really barely, a couple sitting beside him. "We're tracking a serial killer who's been killing young women in their thirties for the past three months. So far there's been seven murders. They all look the same. Red hair, brown eyes, and they all have the same initials, BP.

"There was Brittany Prescott, she was the first, then Bailey Pines, Barbara Pan, Beatrix Parker, Becky Plane, Bella Picot, and the most recent was Beth Perish. The body's keep turning up in dumpsters in alleyways. Usually and day or two after their deaths. They've never been killed where they turn up."

Brandi nodded slowly. "So it's safe to say they've been killed in once place, probably the same place, and then dumped in the garbage, what, the following morning?"

John nodded. "Yeah that's what we're going with."

"And all the victims have the same general features and the same initials?" Brandi continued. Sherlock nodded. "Well, then I'd say it's pretty safe to assume that the unsub has lost someone matching those specification."

Sherlock looked at Brandi in awe. "Oh of course! Stupid, stupid!" Sherlock looked at John. "How did we miss that?"

John shrugged. Brandi raised her hand a little. "Yeah?" John asked.

"Well it's just," Brandi hesitated; she wasn't very accustomed to having people pay attention to her. "The fact that the unsub can dump the bodies without anyone noticing is says volumes as well. Plus it's in the morning, when everyone is leaving for work and school. I mean if some van dumped something as big as a body in a dumpster, I think I'd call it in."

"So who can dump things into the trash without being noticed?" Sherlock wondered.

John chuckled. "Well I don't think it's a cabbie this time."

Sherlock smirked and Brandi looked at the two with confusion. "I'm sorry, what's funny?"

John smiled. "Our first case together, the killer was a cabbie."

Brandi's eyes shifted nervously to the back of their cabbie's head. "I _really_ hope it's not a cabbie," she murmured.

The cab pulled to a halt outside of NSY. John slipped out then held the door open for Brandi and Sherlock as the got out. The boys started searching blindly for their wallets. "Oh hell," John muttered. "Left my wallet at the flat. Sherlock?"

"Mine too," Sherlock agreed.

Brandi sighed and pulled out her wallet from her jacket pocket. "You boys owe me big time," she muttered with a slight chuckle behind her words. She handed the cabbie the money.

John nodded. "Thanks Brand," he said.

Brandi shot him a look. "Oh never call me that," she said. "I _hate_ that nickname."

John nodded again. "Okay, yeah. Sorry. Do you have a nickname?"

Sherlock rolled his eyes and walked into NSY, leaving the pair to their conversation. Brandi shrugged. "Not really," she replied, slipping her wallet back into her coat and stuffing her hands in her slacks' pockets. "I mean, I've got my LOTRO username, and then my mum had a nickname for me. But that's it really."

"What're those?" John asked.

Brandi smirked. "Dolly Tolkien and Mum called me Red. But I'm good with Brandi."

John smiled and held out his hand to Brandi. "Well then, hello, Brandi. I'm John."

Brandi giggled and shook John's hand. "Hi John, I'm Brandi. Now I think there is a tall man in a dark coat waiting for us inside."

John smiled and held on to Brandi's hand as he led her inside.


	13. Confronting the Beast

_The entire ordeal could have been completely avoidable. At least, that's what Sherlock has decided. If John hadn't gotten into Sherlock's personal space like he had; and Sherlock could have not moved so quickly. But no. Both of those things happened, and now Sherlock felt weird when he left Brandi and John to their conversation outside._

_Sherlock had been sitting at the kitchen table (do note he was only in a sheet) studying a skin sample from one of the victims of their current case when John had returned from Tesco. John had been silent as he put away all of the groceries, and Sherlock hadn't noticed when John leaned down next to him._

_"What are you looking at?" John asked._

_Sherlock turned his head a bit quickly and came to a screeching halt as he noticed he and John's closeness. They were only millimeters apart. Their noses even brushed against each other. Both men's eyes widened, but neither of them made to move._

_Sherlock gulped and decided he had better break the silence. "Umm...John," he murmured. "Personal space."_

_John's eyes widened even more and he jerked quickly away. "Right, right, sorry Sherlock," he apologized hastily. "Sorry I don't know what came over me."_

_Sherlock nodded slowly. "Yes, well, make sure it doesn't happen again," he said._

_When Brandi had said 'they looked like they got dressed in the dark' that had been partly true. Sherlock had his resolution not long after John had changed from his regular clothes to his sweat pants and t-shirt. But, he realized he was late for his date with Brandi and rushed upstairs to get dressed. But Sherlock had rushed to get dressed after needing to get to yard. Somehow he had distracted John just enough to get him to forget all about his petty date and join him in tracking down a serial killer._

_If John or Brandi ever found this out, he was sure to be dead meat. Sherlock had already been on the other side of John's nasty right hook; and he didn't want to think of what Brandi was capable of. Even though, for some odd reason, he currently loathed the young woman, he had to give her some credit; the girl was cleverer that she was given credit for._

Suddenly, Sherlock was wretched from the halls of his mind palace by Brandi's laughing as John lead her inside. Something about that made Sherlock's blood boil. But he couldn't figure out what.

Brandi froze and let go of John's hand when she looked at Sherlock. _Oops, must've looked threatening again, _Sherlock thought.

"Come on you two, hurry up!" Sherlock snapped as he headed up to the level where Lestrade was.

John cleared his throat. "Actually, I am going to head to the loo. Would you show Brandi the way up?" he asked.

"Fine," Sherlock said through clenched teeth.

Sherlock spun on his heel and walked briskly to the lift. Brandi had to jog a bit to keep up. Sherlock slapped the button to the upstairs and to duo stood in awkward silence as they waited for the doors to open.

Finally, the doors slid open with a _ping_. The two stepped inside and Sherlock hit the button for the forth floor. Brandi leaned against the wall and studied Sherlock for a moment.

"I'm not afraid of you, by the way," she said after a while.

Sherlock looked at her out of the corner of his eye. "Why would you be?" he asked.

Brandi shrugged. "I dunno. I best most people are terrified of you."

Sherlock felt his features stiffen again. "But you aren't?"

Brandi shook her head. "No. I actually pity you."

This comment managed to get Sherlock to look at her fully. "Excuse me?" he asked.

"You heard me. But it's not for the reason that you think. I pity you because I see the way you look at John. It kills you that he's dating me. And it kills you even more that now I'm becoming involved in your work. Usually just you and John, but now his pretty and clever girlfriend is involved and it bothers you. But the funniest thing about this all is, I am not scared of you at all. If you really love John, you'll tell him. And if he really loves you, which I think he just might, he'll tell you he loves you back. And do you wanna know something Sherlock? I'll back off the second he does. Wanna know why? Because I would hope someone would do the same for me. Picking up what I'm putting down?"

Sherlock looked at the young woman in front of him. "You want me to back off John until I tell him I love him. Because right know you're his girlfriend and the only way that may change is if I told him the truth."

Brandi smirked. "Quite right Mr. Holmes. Now I'm not going to be a harridan (a strict, bossy, or belligerent old woman) about this okay? But I'd like to enjoy dating John while I can."

Sherlock nodded slowly. "Yes of course."

"Good."

At that moment, the doors pinged open again and the pair walked in an awkward silence towards Lestrade's team.


	14. I'm A Girl, I'm Not Deaf!

John didn't feel quite right with leaving Brandi alone with Sherlock. God knows the man has the heart of a salamander. But maybe the two would come to some agreement on not to kill each other. If that was even possible to do in ten minutes.

John stepped out of the lift and walked over to the group of people on the forth floor. Needless to say he was surprised by the scene he found unfolding.

"Really moose head?" Brandi snapped at Anderson. "You wanna talk about my boyfriend that way?"

Anderson rolled his eyes. "Oh please, you've been on two dates!" he scoffed.

"At least their actually dates. I'm not shagging my coworker and cheating on my wife in the process."

Anderson's eyes narrowed. "How do you know if I'm doing that or not?" he seethed.

Brandi shrugged. "Please you moron. I heard you and Donovan talking about it when Sherlock and I walked up. I'm a girl, I'm not deaf!"

Anderson barked a laugh and rolled his eyes. "Oh well I'd keep an eye on the freak," he sneered. "He and your precious little boyfriend might start going at it any day now."

And that was when Brandi snapped. No one could tell you how it happened, just that one second Anderson was standing, and the next he was on the floor with a bloody nose. Lestrade looked from Brandi to Anderson, and, without a word, walked away.

Brandi crouched down beside Anderson and grabbed his shirt collar. "Listen here," she hissed. "Don't talk to me like I don't already know that Sherlock and John are gonna figure it out pretty soon. And never call Sherlock a freak again, otherwise, next time, I'm gonna do a lot worse than break your nose. Got me!" Anderson nodded frantically and Brandi let him go. Brandi slowly rose to her feet and looked at Donovan and a few other Yarders. "Anyone else feel like pissing me of?"

Everyone shook their heads and Brandi stormed off to the lifts. Sherlock went after her and John looked around awkwardly.

"Sorry about her," he said sheepishly. "She's new."

And with that John rushed after his friends.


	15. Alleyway Deductions

The trio sat in the back of another cab heading towards the latest crime scene. John and Sherlock kept glancing at Brandi, who was staring straight ahead and not saying anything. Sherlock and Brandi had managed to get the address from Lestrade before Brandi started fighting. Suddenly, Sherlock phone started to ring.

Sherlock pulled his phone from his jacket and answered it, "Sherlock Holmes...What Lestrade?" Sherlock held his phone out for Brandi. "It's for you."

Brandi took the phone and pressed it to her ear. "Nuqneh," Brandi greeted, earing a confused look from both the boys.

Lestrade sounded confused as he asked, "I'm sorry what?"

Brandi sighed and rolled her eyes. "It's Klingon for hello," she explained.

"Right...Anyway I can't have you beating up my officers, Brandi," Lestrade explained. "It'll get someone fired and I might not be able to take either of you three in for cases if this kind of thing continues."

Brandi sighed and again and nodded her head. "Yeah, fine. Sorry. Won't even happen again, promise."

"Okay, well try not to do anything stupid at the crime scene," Lestrade requested.

"Fine."

Brandi hung up the phone and handed it back to Sherlock. The group sat in an almost awkward silence for the rest of the ride to the crime scene. And the silence continued on after they got out of the cab and approached the alleyway where the latest body had been found. The Yarders had been long since gone, and everything had been cleaned up. But that didn't seem to matter to Sherlock.

Brandi leaned against the building wall and watched as Sherlock worked. John leaned beside her and watched Sherlock as well. Sherlock didn't say anything while he worked, but that didn't stop John from striking up conversation.

"So what happened back at Yard?" John asked.

* * *

_Brandi and Sherlock approached the group of Yarders and Sherlock looked at Lestrade as he spoke, "Detective Inspector Lestrade, where's the latest crime scene been?"_

_Anderson nodded to Brandi. "Who's she?" he asked. "You can't just drag your new pets along, Freak."_

_Brandi shot a nasty looked at Anderson but turned to Lestrade to get an answer. "It's on Lawrence Street. Third alleyway on the right if you come in from Roberts," Lestrade explained._

_Sherlock nodded. "Thank you, Lestrade," he said. "Afternoon."  
_

_As Brandi and Sherlock turned to make their leave, Anderson sneered, "Well she can't possibly be the freak's girlfriend. Who in their right mind would want to date that psychopath?"_

_Brandi whirled on her heel and got inches from Anderson's face. "All right listen here. I'm not his girlfriend, I'm John's. And I think anyone would be lucky to date Sherlock Holmes. I consider myself blessed to even know him, even though I barely know him at all! 'Cos from what John's said, he's pretty amazing, and I don't doubt that for a second!"_

_"Oh please!" Anderson scoffed. "I bet your precious little boyfriend and the freak are shagging each other behind you back."_

_"Really moose head?" Brandi snapped at Anderson. "You wanna talk about my boyfriend that way?"..._

* * *

Brandi shrugged and looked down at the pavement. "Nothing," she said nonchalantly. "That guy and I just had a disagreement, that's all."

John scoffed. "Seemed a bit more serious than a simple disagreement," he replied. "You punched Anderson in the nose!"

"It was a very strong disagreement," Brandi said quickly.

John nodded. "And what was all that 'Don't talk to me like I don't already know that Sherlock and John are gonna figure it out pretty soon', when Anderson said that Sherlock and I would start shagging each other?"

Brandi glanced at John out of the corner of her eye. "Think about it."

"John! Come here!" Sherlock called from his position around the corner, beside the dumpser. Brandi and John pushed off the wall and made their way over to him. Sherlock motioned around the alley. "Look around. What do you see?"

Brandi looked around, all she could see were brick walls though. "I dunno Loki," she said, earning a sour look from Sherlock. "What do you see?"

Sherlock turned to John. "John?" he asked.

"I don't see-" John started, but cut himself off midway. "Oh..."

Brandi looked at him, waiting for an explanation. "What 'oh'?" she asked.

"Nothing. You can't see anything," John murmured. "No streets, no windows, just brick walls."

Brandi nodded. "Right, right. Makes it perfect place to dump a body."

"But that doesn't make any sense," Sherlock said. "There were windows and you could see the streets from all the other locations. Why change the pattern?"

"Maybe he's getting nervous," Brandi suggested. "I mean seven murders in three months? I'd be getting pretty antsy. Probably hasn't been sleeping much. Most likely paranoid."

John nodded. "So it wouldn't matter to him anymore that he basically goes unnoticed when he dumps a body. He thinks someone will notice now."

Brandi shrugged. "Seven women have died, everyone's gotta be on edge nowadays. I know I'd pay a lot more attention if I felt I was in danger."

Sherlock suddenly gave Brandi a look that could only be described as sly. "But you are, don't you see!"

John raised an eyebrow. "Sherlock whatever it is you're planning, the answer is no. You aren't not doing anything that could hurt Brandi."

Brandi crossed her arms indignantly. "That's not your say, Dr Watson."

John turned and gave Brandi an apologetic look. "I'm sorry but you've never been wrapped up in one of Sherlock's schemes before. Trust me when I say it's dangerous and terrifying."

Brandi smirked and looked at Sherlock. "What do you need me to do?"

John groaned and leaned against a wall. Sherlock looked at Brandi cautiously. "It will be dangerous," he warned. "You have a high risk of dying."

Brandi gulped but nodded slowly. "Yeah okay. What do you need?"

Sherlock smiled and looked at Brandi gleefully. "How do you feel about being live bait?"


	16. This Isn't Me

"I'm sorry, bait?" Brandi asked as she chased after Sherlock as they left the alleyway; John at her heels. "Why would the murder come after me?"

Sherlock smirked. "You fit the profile for all the other victims. Red hair, brown eyes, you even have the BP initials! You're perfect Brandi."

"I'm grateful for the comment, Sherlock, don't get me wrong. But it's not so great when the comment comes from you being the perfect target for a serial killer. Actually it's rather depressing, considering no one ever really comments on me. Not that I care but-"

John nudged Brandi and murmured in her ear, "Rambling, love."

Brandi blushed furiously. "Sorry," she mumbled, looking down at the pavement.

"We'll have to get back to Baker Street and dress Brandi up some," Sherlock said as they exited the alleyway. "Hope you don't mind, John."

John knit his eyebrows together. "No, why would I mind?"

Sherlock shrugged and said hesitantly, "Do remember John, all the young ladies who were murdered were dressed rather...provocatively."

Brandi's eyes widened and she looked at Sherlock in a mix of confusion, shock, and fear. "I'm sorry, what?" she asked. "I don't exactly own and 'provocative clothes', Sherlock."

Sherlock sigh frustratedly. "Fine. Guess we'll be stopping by the shops on our way back to the flat then."

Brandi rolled her eyes and grumbled, "Well excuse me if I don't dress like a slut."

* * *

Brandi rolled her eyes as the boys came to a screeching halt as she turned to walk into Victoria's Secret. Brandi turned and shook her head in disbelief. "Oh come on," she groaned. "I can understand John, but you Sherlock?"

Sherlock looked at the store nervously. "I don't even see why you need to go in here," he muttered.

Brandi groaned again. "I need a push-up bra!" she admitted, just loud enough that people across the street could hear.

Sherlock blushed feverishly and looked at the ground. Where as Brandi felt John's eyes landing on her chest. Brandi gave him a warning look.

"Eyes front, John," Sherlock reminded him.

John blushed as well and looked and the ground. "Sorry," he muttered to Brandi.

Brandi rolled her eyes and waved it off. "Whatever. I'm going inside to get a bra. You two can hide outside."

Brandi walked into the store and headed over to the push-up bra section. Needless to say, Brandi herself wasn't fond of being here. _It's for a case, _she kept telling herself. After a ten minutes of searching and embarrassingly asking for help from one of the ladies who worked there, Brandi wound up leaving the store with a "Very Sexy Add-Two-Cups Push-Up" bra. It costed an arm and a leg, but she figured that she'd make Sherlock and John pay for everything.

Brandi walked back outside where the boys where waiting. "You are paying me back every thing that I spend today, got me?" she snapped at Sherlock.

Sherlock smirked at the young woman. "Have to ask for help?" he asked.

Brandi glared at him. "Oh you can burn downstairs, mate!"

John and Sherlock kept at her heels as Brandi walked down the street to the nearest Top Shop. She walked inside, the boys still on her heels, and walked over to the nearest dress wrack. After a bit of searching, she came across a white dress that landed above the knee, definitely not something Brandi was accustomed to.

She held it up for John and Sherlock. "What do think?" she asked.

John looked at it in surprise. "Blimey, it's beautiful," he said in awe.

Sherlock glanced up from his phone before muttering, "Needs a lower neck line."

Brandi stuck her tongue out at him and went back to searching. Next was a peach dress with flower lace, the length was some how shorted and it had a lower neckline. She held it to the boys.

Sherlock smirked. "Perfect," he said. He motioned to the rest of the store. "Go get heels and anything else you'd need."

Brandi groaned and sulked off to the shoes. After a bit of hunting, Brandi decided on a pair of stilettos. They were nude, with a metal cuff, and when she wore them she was taller than Sherlock. Oh yeah, she was nervous now.

* * *

Brandi sat in the bathroom of 221B as Sherlock did her make-up. Her eyes were closed, by command of Sherlock, so she couldn't see what he was doing to her. "Where'd you learn to do hair and makeup like this?" Brandi asked curiously.

"The internet," Sherlock replied.

Brandi nodded. "And when was that?"

"While you were shopping earlier."

Brandi scoffed softly. "Nice."

Brandi heard Sherlock set down and makeup brush and he said, "Alright, I'm going to do your hair. Don't open your eyes."

Brandi nodded again. "Sir, yes sir," she replied.

After about thirty minutes Sherlock finally spoke again. "Okay, open up."

Brandi opened her eyes and looked in the mirror. Her jaw dropped when she saw her reflection. She didn't even look like Brandi Preston. Her hair wasn't pulled back, there was no t-shirt or jeans. Instead the nerdy girl looking back at her in the mirror was an incredibly sexy woman.

First of all, the push-up bra and heels worked wonders, though it was provocative like Sherlock requested. But her makeup and hair were stunning. Sherlock had done an incredibly sexy smokey eye look, making sure to bring out her cheek bones and her lips were full and a dark red. Her hair was curled so that it framed her face perfectly, and was full of volume.

"Who's that?" Brandi asked, her eyes not leaving the mirror. Sherlock smirked and leaned against the wall. Brandi sighed shakily and turned around to look at Sherlock. "I'm terrified," she admitted shakily.

Sherlock looked at the woman sadly. "Don't be. You'll be completely safe. John and will be there the entire time."

"That doesn't make me any more confident about this. I mean this isn't me! I'm not hot, I'm a nerdy chick who walks around in t-shirts and combat boots! Not the beautiful women you see on telly!"

Sherlock rested a hand on her shoulder. "You'll be fine. Now go show John. We need to get to business."

Brandi nodded nervously and walked into the living room. John looked up at the sound of heels on hardwood. His eyes widened at the sight of Brandi. Brandi gulped nervously and looked down at the floor.

"Don't say it," she murmured, "I know I look horrible."

John stood up from his chair and looked at Brandi again. "You look beautiful," he said breathlessly.

Brandi shrugged and looked at the floor. "I don't feel beautiful. This isn't me."

John nodded slowly and actually had to lift his head to make eye contact with Brandi. "Maybe it isn't, maybe it is. But right now, you are the most beautiful woman in all of London."

Brandi gave John a small smile. "Thanks."

Sherlock came striding from his bedroom with his coat and scarf on. "John grab your gun," he stated.

"Where we going?" John asked as he tucked his gun into his coat pocket.

"Kimble Street."


	17. Darkness on Kimble Street

Brandi walked nervously down Kimble Street. Her heels clicked against the pavement. John and Sherlock hid on top of a roof top and watched as she walked towards Darwin Way. It had been a hour and no one had showed yet, Brandi had walked the block seven times. John sighed and ran a hand down his face.

"How are we sure the murder is going to show?" John muttered.

Sherlock rolled his eyes. "Because, John, it's been a week since his last kill," he explained. "Your girlfriend is the absolute perfect target."

John glared at Sherlock. "My girlfriend is not a target."

Sherlock scoffed. "Don't be so naive, John. Of course she's a target!"

John turned and looked at Sherlock angrily. "Quit treating my girlfriend like she's just some item!"

Sherlock turned and shot John an 'I-know-that-you-moron' look. "Well that's obvious, isn't it? Brandi isn't some item, just like your not an item. I actually think she's earned my colleague status. Not many women would give themselves up as bait like she did!"

"She only did it so as to not feel left out!" John snapped. "I almost stood her up tonight! No thanks to you!"

A piercing scream filled the air and Sherlock and John whipped around to see Brandi running barefooted down the street, her heels laying on the pavement by the curb. A tall and largely built man in a black hoodie was running after her. Without hesitation Sherlock and John sprinted to the fire escape and hurtled down it at record speed.

John pulled his gun from his jacket and hollered, "Brandi!"

Brandi glanced over her shoulder and went to sprint across the street. But (as Brandi will now learn) the whole 'check before you cross' thing, wasn't a load of crap. When Brandi ran out into the street, there was the screeching of tires and then darkness...


	18. Tying Up Loose Ends

John sat numbly in next to Brandi's hospital bedside. He kept his hands in his head and tried to from yelling. Brandi had been in a four day coma, and the doctors said she might night wake up for a while. And all the four days, John sat in the uncomfortable chair, waiting. Sherlock had taken position standing in the corner. His eyes were closed, so John figured he had gone deep into his mind palace for the past few days.

The room door opened and John looked up to see Mycroft and Greg enter. Greg had been by yesterday and Mycroft had stayed for twelve hours the day Brandi had been hit.

"Is she any better?" Greg asked.

John shook his head and looked back down at the floor. "No," he murmured hoarsely.

Mycroft, on one of those rare occasions, looked deeply troubled and saddened. "I'm sorry, John," he said.

"This is all my fault though," John admitted. "I shouldn't have let her on the case, or let her be bait. I should've just told Molly no and left her out of our life."

Greg scoffed. "She lives in the same building as you, you invited her to dinner at your flat and she met all of us," he said. "John, she's a part of our lives now."

John sighed. "Four days. How did this happen in four days?" he wondered.

Mycroft shook his head. "I believe, John, that Brandi Preston is an amazing woman, that we have all been blessed at meeting."

John stood up and glared at him. "Who met her one time! One time! How can you say things like that? I've gotten to know her!"

Suddenly, a hoarse voice groaned, "Shut up, you lot. None of you really know me, you're just saying this to look good!"

Everyone turned to look at Brandi who had opened her eyes. John smiled and sat back down next to her. "Hey you, how are you feeling?" he asked.

"We're over," she grumbled tiredly.

John nodded. "Yeah I figured so."

Brandi smiled weakly. "Well, now that that's over, gimme a hug."

John smiled and stood up. He wrapped his arms around Brandi for a moment before sitting back down. "I am really sorry about this."

Brandi held out her hand. "Give me my clipboard that says whats wrong with me." Sherlock rolled his eyes and handed her the clipboard. "Oh guys," she laughed, "I'm fine, really. Just a concussion, a cracked rib and a...ugh skull fracture. Minor but still there. I mean come on you lot, I got off easy...What happened to me?"

Greg sighed and leaned against the wall. "Well, you were hit by a taxi," he explained. "And you've been in a coma for four days."

Brandi looked repulsed. "Argh!" she groaned. "That could've been a terrible way to die!...Hey did you catch the murder?"

"After you were hit by the taxi, John went to get you and I managed to corner the murder in an alleyway," Sherlock explained.

Brandi nodded slowly. "Well then, who was he?"

Mycroft cleared his throat and spoke up, "He was a garbage man named Harold Polish."

"His wife Bay had recently died," Sherlock continued. "She was murdered. Looked exactly like all the victims."

"Psychopath," Brandi muttered.

Sherlock nodded. "Indeed," he agreed.

* * *

_So we've reached the end. The end's the hardest part. Always tying up loose ends, and explaining how everything worked out. Then it's those last words. I mean, how do you choose those? Oh well. I suppose I ended this one fairly well. _

_This was just part one. We still have got Sherlock and John to sort out. And Brandi still had many adventures with the Baker Street boys. Stick around for part two._


	19. Happy Halloween, Brandi Preston!

_Oh, so you're back. That's absolutely brilliant. You're very loyal, very quickly. I hope you liked part one. With part two, expect longer chapters and less frequent updates. You're probably thinking that this is part two right? Heheh, wrong. This is a little Halloween special. Please enjoy!_

* * *

It was October thirtieth and the tenants of 221B and 221C all sat around the telly of 221B eating popcorn and watching the horror movie marathon. Brandi was splayed on the sofa under a Gryffindor throw wearing sweat pants and a 'Friday the Thirteenth' t-shirt. John was sitting in his armchair while wearing his pyjama pants and favorite jumper. And Sherlock was curled up in his own armchair, wrapped in nothing but a sheet.

"Why are we watching this again?" Sherlock asked, though he hadn't taken his eyes off the TV all day.

"Cos," Brandi said, "it's Halloween tomorrow and this has got Daniel Radcliffe in it."

Sherlock snorted. "Have you even read the book?"

Brandi shrugged. "Nope. But who cares? Maybe I'll get around to it."

"Brandi Preston I am surprised in you," John laughed. "Watching a movie before reading the book? The scandal!"

Brandi shot John a glared. "Shut up."

A knock came to the door and Brandi crawled off the couch, popped a handful of popcorn into her mouth, and walked over to answer it. On the other side stood Mycroft, looking as bitter as always. Brandi swallowed her popcorn and asked, "What's wrong Mycroft? All the candy driving you mad?"

Mycroft rolled his eyes and walked past her and into the flat. Brandi shrugged and closed the door. She collapsed onto the couch again and crawled back under her throw. Both boys glanced at Mycroft, before turning back to the telly.

"What do you want?" Sherlock asked him. "Can't you see it's our day off."

Mycroft sighed. "No, it's Brandi's day off. John doesn't get days off because he doesn't have an actual job. And you aren't working a case so it's not really your day off either," Mycroft said.

Brandi rolled her eyes and pulled her throw over her head. "Hey John," her muffled voice said, "wanna here a joke?"

"What?" John asked, still not looking from the telly.

"Why did the Mycroft let us have a peaceful day around the flat?" she asked.

"Dunno, why?"

Brandi pulled the throw off her head and glared at Mycroft. "Trick question," she said to John. "He didn't."

John snorted and Sherlock smirked. Mycroft shot Brandi a glare before saying, "Brandi had informed me that you all were throwing a Halloween party here in the flat tomorrow night."

Brandi nodded, back to watching the telly. "Yeah, and?" she asked.

"You also informed me that you would not being taking no for an answer. So I figured that I would come here and inform you in person that I will _not_ be coming to your Halloween celebration tomorrow."

Brandi rolled her eyes. "Whatever. I don't think anyone's going to miss you dressing up in a stupid umbrella costume anyway."

"I actually might've enjoyed that," John piped in.

Brandi pondered that a moment before admitting, "Yeah I would've too. Totally could've exploited that on the internet."

Mycroft glared at her. "Goodbye Brandi. John. Sherlock."

The 221 tenants grunted and Mycroft sighed, exasperated. He stormed from the flat and slammed the door shut. Brandi rolled her eyes and grabbed another handful of popcorn.

Through a mouthful of food she asked, "So what're you guys dressing up as tomorrow?"

John shrugged. "Didn't really plan to," he replied.

Sherlock nodded. "Neither did I," he agreed.

Brandi glared at them both a grumbled, "Idiots."

They both turned and looked at her with puzzlement. "I'm sorry?" John asked.

Brandi sat up and looked at them in disbelief. "Oh come on. Halloween night, and you're hosting a Halloween party, and you two sods aren't going to dress up?"

Sherlock raised an eyebrow. "And what would you suggest that we dress up as, exactly?" he asked.

Brandi studied Sherlock for a moment before saying, "You should do something steampunk. It would be brilliant." Brandi turned and looked at John. "You should be a hobbit."

"Ah, no," John said, getting up and walking to the kitchen. Brandi jumped up and followed him. "I am never dressing up as a _hobbit_."

Brandi sighed and sat down in one of the kitchen chairs. "Well what then? Because you can't be the one person not it costume!"

John groaned and ran a hand down his face. "I don't know! What are you going as?"

"Ginny Weasley from Harry Potter," Brandi answered. "And don't you think you're doing Harry Potter too. We're broken up, no matching costumes...You can always do steampunk with Sherlock."

"Sherlock and I aren't a couple," John argued.

Brandi gave him a doubtful look. "Well sweetie, we didn't just break up because you got me hit by a car."

John raised an eyebrow. "Excuse me."

Brandi shook her head. "Nope, sorry love, that's for me to know and you to find out. Actually, you already know."

John sat down across from her and looked at her curiously. "Are you implying that you broke up with me because you believe that Sherlock and I are in _love_?" he asked incredulously.

Brandi shrugged. "You said it. Not me."

John scoffed. "I am not in love with _Sherlock Holmes_."

"Yes you are."

John sighed and ran a hand through his hair. "So you're telling me, that one of the reasons that you broke up with me was because you think I'm in love with Sherlock?"

Brandi looked at him knowingly. "I see the way you two look at each other, John. And it's sad that you can't see it."

"Because you know what being in love feels like," John scoffed.

John's heart dropped as he recounted his words and Brandi looked as if she could throw up. "Yeah, yeah I have."

John gulped and looked at her hesitantly. "Who was he?"

Brandi rolled her eyes. "Shut up, John."

Brandi walked into the living room and came across Sherlock sitting on the sofa now, though he sat where Brandi rested her head. Not even thinking twice, Brandi laid out of the couch with her head on Sherlock's lap. Sherlock didn't even tense when she did, it was like it was something perfectly natural for Brandi to have her head in his lap.

John walked into the living room and flinched. "What are you two a couple now?" he snapped.

Brandi rolled onto her back and looked at Sherlock's face. She brushed a stray curl from his face and murmured, "Only if he wants to be. Since you aren't interested."

Sherlock looked at Brandi curiously. "I suppose..." he replied.

John looked at them both, before storming off to his room. Once they heard the door slam, Brandi said, "So operation, make John Watson jealous is a go."

Sherlock smirked. "Do you think this will work?" he asked.

"Probably. I still can't believe that you finally admitted that you were in love with him."

Sherlock sighed and started playing with a lock of Brandi's red hair. "You don't jump off a building and fake your death for just anyone."

Brandi smiled. "Guess this settles you dressing up as Harry Potter for the party tomorrow. And remember that we have to pretend getting really smashed and then...well...uh...someone's gotta catch us-"

"Snogging in the closet," Sherlock finished generously for her.

Brandi sighed and intertwined her fingers with Sherlock's. "I get to snog Sherlock Holmes in the cupboard to make John Watson jealous," she giggled. Her eyes widened suddenly. "My life has gone mad."

Sherlock smirked turned back to the telly again. "It's only going to get madder, I promise."

* * *

_Sherlock and Brandi sat in the kitchen of 221C, sipping tea silently. Finally, Brandi set her mug down and asked, "What's wrong, Sherlock? Did Mycroft threaten you with his umbrella again?" Sherlock looked and the table and shook his head. This concerned Brandi. "Then what's wrong?"_

_Sherlock looked up at her, fear and nervousness filled his eyes. "I keep experiencing an increase of oxytocin when I am with John," he murmured._

_Brandi studied him a moment before asking, "How long has this been going on?"_

_"Eight months," he admitted._

_"Wait a minute, eight months, John told me that's how long it's been since you returned from the dead. You've been in love with John Watson for eight months and you haven't made a move yet?"_

_Sherlock sighed. "Yes. And he would never actually admit it."_

_"Why are you telling me this?" Brandi asked._

_Sherlock sighed again and ran his hands through his hair. "Because you are my only other friend!"_

_Brandi sat up a bit straighter and smiled. "I'm your friend?"_

_"Well you, John, and I spend all our time together when you're off work and John and I aren't working a case. And unlike with most people I couldn't just deduce your life, so I had to get to know you. And you know about me and my family. So, yes, you're my friend, Brandi."_

_Brandi nodded. "Okay, what do you need me to do?"_

_"I need you to help me make John jealous."_

_Brandi raised a questioning eyebrow. "Alright, and how do you propose I do that?" she asked._

* * *

Brandi stood in her bedroom adjusting her Weasley sweater. Mrs. Hudson had made it for her and she was completely elated. Brandi's red hair had been pulled into a ponytail like Ginny's. Brandi grabbed her Gryffindor robes off her bench and pulled them up. She gave the mirror a smile before rushing out into her living room.

Sherlock stood in the living room tugging uncomfortably at his own robes. Brandi beamed at him. "You look great!" Brandi said excitedly. "Where're your glasses?"

Sherlock motioned to the round glasses on the coffee table. "I refuse to wear them," he muttered. "The glass is annoying."

Brandi sighed and picked the glasses up off the table. She popped the glass out of them and handed them to Sherlock. Sherlock sighed and stuck the glasses on his face. Brandi smiled and moved his hair out of the way a bit to show the scar Brandi had drawn on his face. She hadn't done half bad.

Brandi gave him a small smile. "You look adorable," she commented.

Sherlock sighed and rolled his eyes. "I am not adorable," he muttered.

"No of course not, Harry," she said.

Sherlock glared at Brandi. "This had better work," he grumbled. "I don't know how long I'll be able to stand dating you."

Brandi rolled her eyes and straightened Sherlock's tie. "You and me both mate," she sighed.

Brandi walked into the living room and picked up a plate of cookies. She had made them based off of creatures from her fandoms (Weeping Angels, orcs, yellow eyed demon, Chitauri, and dementors). She held the plate in one hand and intertwined her other hand with one of Sherlock's.

"Okay," she said, "time to make John admit he's in love with you."

* * *

John stood in 221B's kitchen, adding the finishing touches to the Halloween decorations. Brandi, Sherlock, and Mrs. Hudson had helped him earlier, but Brandi and Sherlock had gone down stairs to get ready, and Mrs. Hudson had to finish icing cupcakes downstairs.

John hadn't dressed up, he knew Brandi would be annoyed, but dressing up in costumes didn't appealed to him. It hadn't even seemed fun to him during his childhood. Sure he went trick-or-treating with his mates as a kid, but that's only because his mates forced him to.

Suddenly, Brandi and Sherlock walked in the door...holding hands. John looked down at the centre piece he had been arranging and ignored the "happy couple". Brandi set a plate of cookies down on the table and groaned loudly.

"John!" she whined. "Why aren't you in costume? It's only fun if everyone dresses up!"

John glared at Brandi. "It may have slipped your mind, Brandi, that I am a forty year old man, and "dressing up" doesn't appeal to me," he snapped.

Brandi rolled her eyes. "Oh come on!" she argued.

John motioned to Sherlock. "I can't believe you got him to dress up as Harry Potter," he remarked.

"He's my boyfriend, John, and he cares about me. A good boyfriend doesn't have to be forced to do anything, they do it because they know it will make their significant other happy."

"Significant other?" John scoffed.

"Shut up!" Brandi snapped.

Mrs. Hudson bustled into the kitchen, carrying a tray of cupcakes decorated to look like pumpkins. "Oh both of you stop your fighting," she fussed. "Now Brandi, dearie, come help me get everything from down stairs."

Mrs. Hudson headed back downstairs and Brandi hissed to Sherlock, "Talk to him," before heading after her.

Sherlock looked at John warily. "So no costume?" he asked.

John shook his head. "No," he answered. "No...No didn't you just hear that entire conversation, Sherlock? Besides, Harry Potter? Really?"

Sherlock shrugged. "According to Brandi, it is customary for couples to dress in the same theme on Halloween."

John gave him a disbelieving look. "Yeah why Brandi?" he asked. "I mean..._Brandi_. Seriously? I thought dating wasn't 'your area', or something like that."

"She interests me."

John raised his eyebrows. "She..._interests _you?"

"Well you interest me too. But of course you 'aren't actually gay' and we're flatmates so that would be a bit odd."

"I'm sorry, why's that 'a bit odd'?"

Sherlock shrugged. "Two flatmates dating? Well you can bet people are already talking about two men living together."

"Yeah but there's Brandi and Mrs. Hudson-"

"Yes but they live downstairs. They don't share the flat itself, they share the building," Sherlock interrupted.

John sighed. "So what then? Hmm? Are you suggesting we start dating?" he asked. "I mean, what about Brandi? I thought you two were a thing now."

"Oh you never know...I'd suggest jumping on the chance if it ever comes, John."

Brandi walked back into the kitchen carrying a bowl of trail mix in one hand and a bowl of carmel coated popcorn in the other. "Hope you brought your sweet tooth boys," she said, setting the bowls on the kitchen counter. "F.Y.I., Mrs. Hudson's carmel popcorn, amazing!"

Sherlock turned from John and smirked at Brandi. "Is that so?" he asked, taking a piece of popcorn from the bowl and popping it into his mouth. "Hmm, not bad. Give her my complements."

Mrs. Hudson walked into the living room and set a large bowl of candy on the coffee table. "Thank you love," she said. She turned to John and frowned. "Oh John dear, why no costume love?"

John groaned. "I don't know, Mrs. Hudson. Why aren't you in costume?"

Mrs. Hudson stood a little straighter. "Well, a lady never reveals her age, but I am far to old to be dressing up, love."

"Yes, right. Well then, can we just forget about me not being in costume for now? Try to actually, I dunno, enjoy the evening ahead?"

Sherlock nodded. "Yes, very well then."

A knock came to the door and Lestrade walked in dressed as Hansel from the film Hansel and Gretel: Witch Hunters. "Hello you lot," he said. "Note on the door said to come on up."

Brandi beamed and bounded up to Greg. "Afternoon Hansel!" she chimed.

Greg nodded and smiled. "Afternoon...err Ginny?"

Brandi smiled even wider and patted Greg on the shoulder. "Atta boy, Greg! So how's your day been?"

"Pretty good. My wife-well my ex-wife suggested the costume. Apparently I really enjoyed the film."

John raised an eyebrow. "You don't remember?" he asked.

Greg shrugged. "I was drunk," he admitted.

Brandi nodded and turned around. She let out a blood curdling scream and fell on the floor. Everyone turned around to see the White Nun from American Horror Stories standing by the head in the fridge. Everyone took a step back, well everyone except Sherlock and of course Brandi who was still on the floor at Greg's feet.

The nun started to laugh and then a Miss Molly Hooper removed her mask. "Oh you should've seen your faces," she laughed. "It was fantastic."

Brandi looked at her in disbelief. "_Molly_?" she asked.

Molly smiled and walked over to help her up. "Yes."

"_Molly Hooper_? My boss, Molly Hooper? Miss 'Never-Mean-To-Anyone' Molly Hooper just pranked us?" she asked.

Molly smiled timidly and looked at everyone around the room. "Sorry."

John smiled. "That was bloody brilliant," he commented.

Greg clapped his hands together. "Well," he said, "Now that everybody's here, shall we get the party going?"

Brandi beamed and shouted, "Let's party!"

She hit play on the stereo system and the song _Are You Ready_ by ACDC filled the flat. Brandi walked over to Sherlock and gave him a smile. Sherlock smirked back at her and wrapped an arm around her shoulders. Lestrade looked at them suspiciously, but didn't say anything. John glanced at Sherlock and Brandi sadly.

"Where'd I put the beer?" he murmured.

Brandi felt guilty. Actually, she felt down right terrible. It was obvious that this was eating John up inside. But that was the point, wear him down so that when Sherlock fesses up to John, John fesses up as well.

"In the fridge," Brandi told him. John opened the fridge and Brandi added, "Mind grabbing me one too?"

John popped open to beers and handed one to Brandi. "Here you are then," he murmured.

Brandi gave him a weak smile and sipped her beer. "Thanks mate," she said hoarsely.

"Would anyone like some wine?" Mrs. Hudson called.

Sherlock nodded. "I'll take a glass, Mrs. Hudson," he said.

"And me too, if you don't mind," Molly piped in.

After a while everyone was standing sitting in the living room, a little tipsy, watching A Nightmare on Elm Street. Molly had gotten startled so many times that Greg had wrapped his arm around her. Mrs. Hudson had to leave the flat she got so scared. Brandi and Sherlock, both being ridiculously skinny people, sat together in Sherlock's chair. John had turned to shooting them annoyed looks and sulking.

Brandi leaned over and whispered to Sherlock, "Ready to snog in the cupboard?"

Sherlock sighed. "As I'll ever be," he whispered back.

Brandi got up from her seat. "I'm just going to pop off to the loo," she said.

After hearing the door shut, Sherlock waited a few moments before rising and saying, "I'm just going to fetch something."

Sherlock walked down the hall and slipped into the cupboard. Brandi was squeezed into the corner and looked at Sherlock warily. Sherlock closed the door and they stared at each other in awkward silence.

Brandi took a shaky breath. "So..." she murmured.

"Let me just make it clear that this is completely platonic," Sherlock whispered. "I am in love with John and have zero feelings for you."

Brandi nodded quickly. "No of course. Completely platonic. Just for show. And you know what to do after words, right?"

"Follow John off to wherever it is he runs off too and tell the truth," Sherlock confirmed.

"Exactly...lets get this over with."

Brandi shifted closer to Sherlock and placed her hands on his shoulders. Sherlock placed his hands on her hips. He hesitated a moment, before slowly leaning in and brushing his lips against hers. Slowly, it turned from soft and chaste, to rough and needy. Brandi groaned loudly as Sherlock pushed her against the shelves.

* * *

John raised an eyebrow as he heard a groan from the hallway. Greg and Molly exchanged a look. "What the hell..." John murmured.

He got up from his arm chair and walked down the hall. John froze as a baritone chuckle came from the cupboard. _Please don't be songging_, he begged, _I don't think I could take that_. _Not today_. John pulled the door open to the cupboard and his breath hitched.

Sherlock's robes laid at his feat, along with his glasses. His tie had been loosened and his hair was messy. Brandi's robes also laid on the floor, and her jumper had been removed so that she was only in a tank top. The snogging duo wretched apart and both gave John a look like a deer in the headlights.

"John," Sherlock panted.

John looked at them both. He was a mix of emotions. Hurt. Sad. Embarrassed. John back up and then stormed from the flat. He took the stairs two at a time and flew out the front door. John kept walking, and walking, not really paying attention to where his feat were taking him.

Soon he found himself sitting on a bench in Hyde Park. Why was he so upset? Sherlock wasn't his boyfriend. Brandi wasn't his girlfriend anymore. And Brandi and Sherlock were dating. It was normal for couples to snog in cupboards.

_Yeah put not two day old couples_, John thought to himself.

Why was he so bothered by something like _this_? _Because you are in love with Sherlock_, a voice told him. And it was in that moment, one painful moment, that John Watson knew what it was like to have his heart broken.

* * *

Sherlock took a shaky breath as he watched John from his position behind a tree. John looked sad, heartbroken and pitiful in general. Sherlock sighed, deciding it was time to go talk to him, and walked over. He sat down beside his best friend and looked at him out of the corner of his eye.

"Are you okay?" Sherlock asked.

John nodded. "Yeah," he said hoarsely. "Just a bit embarrassing to walk in on your ex and best friend, that's all."

"I'm sorry," Sherlock apologized.

John looked at him in surprise. "Why?" he asked.

"I didn't mean to hurt you."

John scoffed pathetically. "It didn't hurt me."

They sat in silence for a moment before Sherlock said, "Do you have feelings for someone, John?"

John hesitated before nodding. "Yes I suppose I do."

"Non platonic ones?"

"Yes. Why? Do you?"

Sherlock nodded. "Yes I do."

John hesitated again before asking, "Who?"

Sherlock glanced at John before murmuring softly, "You."

John looked at him in disbelief. "_Me_?" he asked incredulously.

"Yes. For eight and a half months now," Sherlock elaborated.

John thought about Sherlock's words for a moment before saying, "Eight and a half months, that's when you came back."

Sherlock nodded. "It might have even been longer, if we're being honest."

John looked at him with understanding. "Then why would you kiss Brandi?" he asked.

Sherlock glanced down in shame. "I thought it was a way to make you jealous," he murmured. "And then maybe you would tell me that you loved me. Which I already knew by the way."

The two sat in silence once again. John turned the new information over in his head before replying, "I think I love you too."

Sherlock gave John a small smile. "What's that make us now?" he asked breathlessly.

"I think that'd make us a couple," John answered softly.

Sherlock smiled again, before his face slipped into looks of love and lust. John studied him a moment, his own features soon turning to the same. Without even realizing how it happened, they were kissing. It was slow, chaste, and soft. Every emotion was poured into it. All of their frustration and pain. All of their love for each other.

They stayed like that until they finally had to break for air. Sherlock smiled at John and rested his forehead on John's. And it was then that Sherlock Holmes felt his life was complete. But something was still missing...

Suddenly, Brandi appeared from nowhere, jumping up from behind the bench. "Finally!" she said, exasperated. "Took me two good points of forever to get you two together!"

Ah yes, there was the missing piece. Because now, whether or not Sherlock liked it, Brandi was part of the family. She was like the little sister Sherlock never wanted.

John smiled and pulled away from Sherlock. "Yes thank you, Brandi," he said. "Even though your methods about doing it were a bit twisted."

Brandi held up her hands in defense. "Hey don't look at me, it was your boyfriend who didn't feel like simply walking into Mordor; if your picking up what I'm putting down," she said.

Sherlock rolled his eyes in disbelief. "Oh grow up," he moaned. "By the way, I've met someone else."

Brandi shrugged. "Yeah, me too," she admitted.

John was surprised. "Really?"

Brandi shook her head sadly. "No...just mentally dating Tom Hiddleston," she mumbled.

John smiled and shook his head in disbelief. "Oh Brandi," he sighed.

Brandi rolled her eyes. "Whatever. We gotta head back now, left Molly and Greg alone at the flat. And only god knows how that could end."

Sherlock sighed and stood up. "Alright then you lot. Let's head back."

* * *

"I _swear_ I didn't know it was a permeant marker," Brandi said as she tried to scrub the scar off Sherlock's forehead.

Sherlock rolled his eyes. "Yes, yes, now get it off!" he snapped.

Brandi gave him a small smile as she cleaned off the marker. "Congratulations, by the way," she murmured.

Sherlock gave her a smile back and replied, "Thank you for helping make it possible."

Brandi shrugged. "Hey if you ever need a girl to snog in order to fool someone, I'm your girl...god that sounded so slutty."

Sherlock waved it off. "I know what you meant, Brandi."

"Good. Still gonna need a beer though."

Sherlock chuckled as Brandi chucked the wet washcloth into the sink. "Scar gone?" he asked.

Brandi nodded as she dried her hands. "Yup. You're one hundred percent Sherlock again."

Sherlock smiled and said, "Thank you, Brandi. Now if you'll excuse me, my boyfriend is waiting for me upstairs."

Brandi smiled and rolled her eyes and Sherlock bounded from her flat and up to his own. She collapsed onto her TARDIS comforter and pulled it around herself. _Get the boys dating. Check._


	20. Tea and Relationships

_I'm not a lesbian_, Brandi thought as she walked down the street to the cafe she was heading to. _But then why did I even accept her offer in the first place. Bugger. Don't only lesbians accept dates from other women? No, no that can't work that way._

Brandi pulled the door open to the cafe and looked around. Her date sat with her back to Brandi. Brandi tugged at her jumper before walking nervously over to the table.

"Hi Molly," she said timidly.

Molly smiled at Brandi. "Hello Brandi!" she chimed. Molly motioned to the seat across from her. "Take a seat."

Brandi chuckled softly. "Make it sound like your the head master getting on to me in primary school," she murmured.

Molly gave Brandi a sweet smile. "Sorry, didn't mean to make you uncomfortable."

Brandi sighed and replied honestly, "Look, Molly, I have to be truthful with you. This is my first date with a woman, like, ever. So I don't want to seem rude, or like I am uninterested, 'cause I am, it's just...the entire date may be uncomfortable or awkward."

Molly nodded and smiled again. "No of course. I completely understand, Brandi. This is my first date with a woman too." Brandi blushed feverishly and looked down in her lap. Molly laughed. "Oh no, no Brandi! I didn't mean to embarrass you! I suppose that's not exactly what I meant.

"See, in Uni I had a girlfriend for a brief time. But I didn't know her before our first date. So I suppose it's a little bit different dating someone that I knew before I asked them out."

Brandi looked up, her cheeks still tinted pink. "Right, yes, of course. I should have figured so. Going by your comfortable body language and the way you knew not to stand up when I came up to the table."

Molly blushed this time and murmured, "I see Sherlock's been teaching you to deduce again."

Brandi looked out the window, attempting to avoid Molly's rather confusing gaze. What was _that_ expression? Hurt? Annoyance? Anger? "Yeah," Brandi muttered. "He's been giving me little mini-lessons. We go to Hyde Park and he has me make deductions about people. It's kind of hard to manage it. I don't know how Sherlock does it."

"What was it like? Dating Sherlock?"

Brandi looked at Molly with a happy gaze. "I could almost call it wonderful," she explained. "He was still Sherlock, but he was...gentle I guess. I see the way he is with John, and it's like that, except a hundred times better. Those two are just...perfect."

Molly nodded. "And John? How was he?"

Brandi shrugged. "More or less the same. Honestly it was so obvious how much he loved Sherlock that he didn't really seem all that into dating me. Plus he got me hit by a bloody taxi so that doesn't exactly put him in my good books."

Molly laughed. "No I don't suppose it would," she giggled.

Brandi gave Molly a small smile in return. "So what about your girlfriend then?" she asked. "What was she like?"

Molly shrugged and sipped her tea. "Oh she was fine. Her name was Amanda Winters. She and I were in the same chemistry class. We went to a few parties together and she kissed me once, but that was about it."

Brandi smirked. "When you say kiss do you mean a peck on the lips or a snog?"

Molly blushed furiously and looked at the table. "No, no our relationship wasn't like that! She just kissed my cheek because a group of blokes were being pricks."

Brandi raised an eyebrow. "So you've never kissed another woman before?" Molly shook her head. Brandi hesitated before asking, "Er...uh...ever kissed a bloke?"

Molly laughed. "Well yes, of course I've kissed a bloke before!" They sat in silence before Molly asked, "Have you ever kissed a bloke?" Brandi smirked and put her head in her hands. She nodded. "Can you name one?"

Brandi started laughing into her hands before composing herself and looking up at Molly. "You wouldn't believe me."

"Try me!"  
Brandi smirked again. "Okay. Remember Halloween night, when John flipped out and ran out of the house when he went looking for Sherlock and I?"

Molly nodded. "Of course I do. Greg and I had finished watching that movie and some how I wound up in Greg's lap."

Brandi nodded. "Yeah, well when John found Sherlock and I, we were snogging in the hallway cupboard."

Molly started at Brandi as if the answer to life had appeared on her forehead. "Sherlock?" she asked in disbelief.

Brandi smirked. "Yep."

"Sherlock _Holmes_?"

"The one and only."

Molly let out a laugh and sipped her tea. "Brilliant."

* * *

Brandi and Molly walked up to the front steps of Molly's flat. They were going to have a glass of wine and Brandi was going to go home, when Brandi's mobile chimed. Brandi pulled her phone out and read her text. _Murder on the corner of Sussex and Chifton Place. Come quickly. SH _Brandi sighed and looked at Molly apologetically.

"Murder?" Molly asked.

Brandi nodded. "Yes," she murmured.

Molly smiled at her date. "Go on then. Get over there. I'll see you at work Monday."

Brandi saw the disappointment ghost across Molly's features. "Thanks for understanding, Molly." Brandi turned to leave, but not before pecking Molly on the lips. Brandi smiled to herself as she rushed down the street. She pulled out her phone and texted Sherlock back. _On my way. Don't punch Anderson without me there. B x_


	21. Murder At The Preston House: Chapter 1

Meet the Parents

_So how was the Halloween special? Pretty good, I hope. Now the question is, who will Brandi Preston fall for? She's already dated John Watson and Sherlock Holmes. Not to mention that little date with Miss Hooper. We also need to ask ourselves, how long will Sherlock and John last?_

* * *

"John!" Sherlock called from his sprawled position on the couch of 221B Baker Street.

John poked his head into the room from the kitchen. "What?" he asked his boyfriend bluntly.

"Where's Brandi? I'm bored!" Sherlock moaned like a five-year-old child.

John sighed and rolled his eyes. He went back to his lunch making and called back, "She went to Ireland to visit her parents, remember?"

Sherlock groaned and curled up in a ball. "Why'd she do that?"

"Her mum asked her to visit, that's why. It's been two years since Brandi last saw her parents."

Sherlock rolled his eyes. "Big deal," he muttered. "It's been twelve years since I last saw my mum."

John sighed as he carried his lunch into the living room and sat down in his armchair to eat. "Just because you despise your mother's existence doesn't mean we all despise our parents existence," he grumbled. "Now go get dressed, we have to pick Brandi up tonight."

Sherlock groaned again. "Why do we have to pick her up?" he asked.

"Because we promised," John explained. "Plus, she's going to be excited to see us. Brandi's been dreading that trip since she found out about it."

"Oh, is the cousin there? What's his name? Darwin?"

John nodded as he tucked into his lunch. "Yep," he said. "So she's going be happy to spend some time with us."

Sherlock sighed. "I don't even remember why she hates her cousin so much."

"I think it's because her mother really likes Darwin, but Darwin's apparently a real prat when Brandi's mother isn't around. But no one ever believes Brandi whenever she tells people what a prat Darwin is."

Sherlock nodded. "Okay, so basically an annoying prat that everybody but Brandi adores."

"Basically."

"How old is he?"

"Seven."

Sherlock snorted and rolled off the couch. "Ah well. Back in a mo."

* * *

The 221B boys stood in Heathrow airport awaiting Brandi's arrival. "Okay what about him?" John asked, motioning to a man passing by.

"Banker, recently divorced, oh and he had been having an affair with his sister-in-law," Sherlock answered.

John sighed and shook his head as he leaned against the wall, that they stood beside, with his arms crossed. "Good...that's quite good...brilliant actually," he commented.

Sherlock smirked and skimmed the crowd again. "Where's Brandi?" he muttered. "She's late."

John shrugged and looked around the crowd again. "Her flight could've been delayed," he suggested.

"I suppose that is a possibility," Sherlock sighed.

John smiled and found that his eyes had drifted towards Sherlocks...rear end. He had found himself doing that a lot more since they started dating last month. Well, it really wasn't last month. When he and Sherlock had kissed in the park, it had been twelve o'nine in the morning on the first of November. So really they had only been together for twenty-three days.

"Oh John, really? In an airport? Have some shame," someone scolded.

Sherlock and John turned to see Brandi standing a few feet away from them with her suitcase at her side. But something was wrong. _Very_ wrong. Her right arm was in a cast and sling, her left eye was bruised, and her left cheekbone had a bandage over it. Not to mention the many cuts and scrapes along her exposed skin. John, and Sherlock probably did too, noticed that some of the cuts looked as though they came from a knife.

"Brandi," John said breathlessly, "what happened to you?"

Brandi shifted awkwardly from foot to foot and muttered, "Let's just get home and I'll tell you once we're there, I promise."

* * *

**72 Hours Earlier...**

Brandi sat on the plane from Heathrow airport to Shannon Airport on Ireland. Her earbuds were in and she listened to Breaking Benjamin and played the latest Pokémon (White 2) on her 3DS. She was flying out to see her family for three days. Mycroft had been kind enough to have Brandi's seat upgraded to first class for her. There are many good advantages to being friends with the brother of the British government.

"No..." Brandi murmured. "No Marlon don't you dare...No don't have Jellicent use energy ball...No!" Brandi moaned, throwing her 3DS into the empty seat beside her. "Screw the world!" she whined.

Over the intercom the pilot said, "Everyone please turn off all electronics and buckle your seat belts, we shall be landing at Shannon Airport in fifteen minutes."

Brandi sighed, saved her game, and shut off her 3DS and iPod. After putting them away, the older gentleman sitting across from Brandi leaned over and asked, "So what brings you to Shannon?"

Brandi gave the man a small smile and answered, "Seeing my family. Well...not the family I _like_ to be with. They are back in London."

The man smiled back at her. "Are you going to visit your in-laws?" he asked.

Brandi scoffed and crossed her arms. "Hardly. Actually I am visiting my blood related family. My...I guess you call them my "chosen family" are the people I know that love me. My blood family all think I am insane because I say my seven year old cousin is a little prick when no one is looking."

"And have your two families ever met?"

Brandi chuckled. "Oh god no. And they never will. It would be total chaos. Although if I ever do get married I suppose they will..."

The man smiled warmly. "So there's not special someone in your life then?"

Brandi smiled and shook her head. "No there isn't. I used to have someone, but that was a very long time ago."

"What happened?"

Brandi swallowed and murmured, "He died."

The man leaned back in his seat and looked at Brandi sadly. "I am very sorry to hear that."

Brandi waved it off. "Oh it's fine. Anyway, what about you?"

The man chuckled. "Oh just business, my dear. Going to meet some stock brokers."

Brandi smiled and laughed softly. "Well that sounds fun."

After the plane had landed and everyone was off, Brandi smiled at the man one last time and said, "I'm Brandi Preston, by the way."

The man nodded. "Oh yes I remember you!" he said. "You were the young woman who helped with those murders and was hit by the cab a while back."

Brandi gave him a small smile and nodded. "Yeah that was me."

"Well my name is Samuel Robinson," Samuel replied. He handed Brandi a business card. "If that family of your's drives you mad just give me a call and we'll meet for lunch. On me."

Brandi beamed at him. "Well I may just have to take you up on that offer. Goodbye!"

"Goodbye, Miss Preston."

Brandi started towards baggage claim and pulled her phone out of her pocket. One new missed message from John.

_"Hello Brandi!" John said happily. "Listen we know your on the plane now but we just wanted to send you something to listen to once you got off. May sound kind of corny and you may make fun of me later, but we miss you already!"_

_"I don't!" Sherlock called from the background._

_"Alright Sherlock says he doesn't but frankly I think that's total crap," John sighed. "Have fun visiting your family. Give us a call when you get the chance. Sherlock promises that we can all go to Angelo's when you get back on Sunday."_

Brandi smiled as the voice mail shut off and then dialed Mycroft's number. He picked up on the second ring. "Hello?" Mycroft asked.

"Hey Mycroft," Brandi said happily, "I just wanted to call and thank you again for first class."

"Not a problem dear. It was my pleasure. You are family."

Brandi's grin widened. "Umm also, I was wondering if you could run a background check on someone for me."

Mycroft's tone turned to concern. "Why? Who is it? What's wrong?"

"Oh nothing. Just a man I met on the plane, his name is Samuel Robinson. We spoke on the plane and he invited me to lunch if my blood family drove me mad."

"Blood family?"

"Yup. I have my blood family, and my chosen family. And right now, I would much rather be with my chosen family."

Mycroft chuckled. "Alright, well I will run that background check, Brandi. I'll phone you soon."

"Thanks Mary Poppins."

Before Mycroft could argue, Brandi hung up the phone. Brandi flicked through her phone's contacts list until she found John. She plugged in her earbuds and held her phone up before hitting the video chat button. It rang a few moments before John appeared on her phone screen.

Brandi beamed at the sight of one of her best friends. "John!" she chimed.

John smiled back at her. "Hello, Brandi, how's Shannon?" he asked.

Brandi scrunched up her nose. "Smells like beer," she complained.

John chuckled. "Well it is Ireland. Plan on visiting a pub or two while you're there?"

Brandi nodded. "Yeah probably go out bar hopping with my cousin Larry," she said. "Is Sherlock there?"

John turned the laptop around to show Brandi that Sherlock was currently sitting upside down on the couch watching telly. "Hello Brandi," Sherlock called.

"Sherlock, dear," Brandi said, "why are you upside down?"

"Bored," Sherlock moaned. "When do you get back?"

Brandi smiled at her other best friend. "On Sunday, I promise."

"Good. Because John hid the gun and I can't find it."

Brandi nodded. "Well darling he's your boyfriend so why don't you two find other means of entertaining yourselves while I'm away?"

"Oh no doubt we will."

"Alright, alright," John said, turning the laptop back to himself. "I don't need you two plotting against me."

Brandi smiled at John. "Well alright," she said. "I love you both so much, but I've got to go visit Trenzalore for the next three days. I'll talk with you later. Try not to burn down London while I'm away."

John laughed. "Well alright, we'll try. It was nice to see you, Brandi."

"Goodbye Brandi!" Sherlock called.

Brandi laughed. "Bye Sherlock!"

"Bye Brandi," John said.

"See ya John."

Brandi hung up the phone again and instantly felt a little bit of her die inside. She loved the boys so much. _They_ were her real family. And it killed her inside to be away from them for so long. These people she was visiting didn't really miss her, they just wanted an excuse to exploit the fact she helped solve a murder.

* * *

Brandi stood outside her parent's house. It was big, expensive, and flashy. Yep, definitely her parent's house. Brandi hesitated a moment before knocking on the door. There was a bit of bustle inside before the maid, who Brandi hated, Dominique opened the door.

Brandi glared at the maid. "What, my parents couldn't be bothered to answer the door for me? Their _own_ daughter?" she hissed.

Dominique rolled her eyes. "Where are your bags? I am to take them to your room."

"Don't bother, I'm not staying here." Brandi brushed past the maid and walked into the familiar foyer of her parent's house. Marble everywhere. Nothing changes.

Brandi walked down the hallway to the living room where her blood family all sat. There were her parents, Hestia and George Preston, her cousins, Darwin, Larry, Cassidy, and Lola, and her aunts and uncles, James, Peter, Lily, Kendal, Morris and Daphne. Brandi looked at them all warily.

"Hi," she said awkwardly to the silent room.

Larry jumped up and walked over to Brandi. He held out his hand. "Hey Brandi," he said as they shook hands.

"Hello Larry," Brandi replied. "How've you been?"

"Fantastic! Yourself?"

Brandi gave her cousin a small smile. "Brilliant."

It was at that moment that Brandi's mother decided it was time to pretend that she actually cared for her daughter. Hestia jumped off the couch and was at Brandi's side in an instant. "Oh daring!" she said with such fake joy Brandi almost threw up her airplane lunch all over Hestia's Jimmy Choo heels. "You look...lovely. Still in those little cults I see."

Brandi glared at Hestia. "It's called a _fandom_. And I am."

Hestia waved off Brandi's reply and ushered her onto the expensive leather sofa. "Now darling! You must tell all of us about your new life in London!"  
Brandi looked at Hestia in disgust. "You don't even _know_ what happened two months ago. Do you?"

Hestia shook her head. "I don't think any of us do, sweetie. Please tell us."

Brandi looked at everyone in disbelief. "None of you?"

Larry held up his hand. "I do, actually," he said.

Brandi felt relieved at that. She could at least count on Larry. "None of the rest of you then?" she asked. Everyone else shook their heads. Brandi took a deep breath and looked around the room. "If you must know," she started, "I was hit by a car while helping solve a string of murders in central London. Good day."

Brandi got up from the couch and stormed from the house, leaving everyone except Larry in shock. Brandi strode over to the BMW ActiveHybrid 7 that Mycroft had rented her. She pulled opened the driver's side and climbed in. Brandi turned the car on and plugged in her iPod. In The End by Linkin Park filled the car. Music always seemed to cool Brandi off.

Someone climbed into the passenger side and Brandi turned to see Larry sitting in the car. "It's a nice car," he commented.

Brandi chuckled and rolled her eyes. "Everything's nice compared to a Mini Coupe, Larry," she joked.

Larry smirked and cross his arms. "Yeah I suppose that's true."

Brandi turned in her seat and looked at Larry for a moment. "Do you wanna go grab a beer?"

Larry paused a second before nodding. "Sure."


	22. Murder At The Preston House: Chapter 2

Mommie Dearest

Brandi and Larry sat in a small, smokey pub somewhere near the edge of Shannon. Part of the smoke was caused by Larry, who was an occasional smoker. But that didn't bother Brandi. She knew Larry smoked, that was part of who Larry was.

"So what _really_ happened in London?" Larry asked, words slurred from his beer. "I've only heard bits and pieces, still a bit foggy."

Brandi took a sip of her whisky and replied, "Me and my mates were helping NSY with a case. Some bloke had been running around murdering women. Anyway I was being chased by the killer, wasn't paying attention at all, and got myself hit by a cab trying to get away."

Larry grimaced. "That sucks."

Brandi shrugged. "Wasn't so bad. Only a minor skull fracture, cracked rib and a concussion."

"Still sucks."

Brandi chuckled and sipped her drink again. "Ah I could've gotten off worse. Plus the boys catered to my every whim until I was better."

"Yeah tell me more about them. They seem pretty important."

Brandi gave Larry an honest look. "Truthfully? They are the most important people in my life. There's John Watson. He's ex-military, super sweet, wears jumpers almost twenty-four seven. And there's Sherlock Holmes. He's a consulting detective who helps NSY with cases all the time. Really brilliant man, kind of annoying sometimes, but now that I know him really well he's very sweet. Honestly. And Sherlock and John are a couple. Kind helped get them together actually. They're both very cute together; I swear it was a match made in heaven."

Larry smiled a bit. "That's nice."

Brandi sighed and finished off her whisky. "I dunno...god I miss them. The boys really are more important than my own parents. I'm not kidding when I say if one of them got hurt...I don't know how I would live without either of them."

Larry finished his own drink. "They most be a very special pair...anyway, ready to go? I bet you want to get back to the house and unpack right?"

Brandi scoffed as he motioned for the bartender. "Oh no, I'm not staying there. I have a hotel. Just gotta phone a friend and ask which one."

After paying for their drinks and getting back in the car, Brandi pulled her phone from her pocket and dialed Mycroft's number. Once again the British government picked up on the second ring. "Hey there Princess Peach," she greeted.

Mycroft sighed. "Hello Brandi," he replied. "What is it?"

"Uh two things my compadre. One, which hotel am I staying at? And whats the 411 on Uncle Sam?" Brandi asked as she pulled out of the pub parking lot.

"Well you, Brandi, are staying at the Adare Manor, it's eleven miles out of Shannon."

Brandi nodded. "Righty-o, the Adare Manor."

Larry's jaw dropped. "Adare Manor?" he asked in shock. "That place isn't cheap."

Brandi slapped Larry's shoulder to shut him up and stared towards the hotel. "And what's the deal with Samuel? Can I meet him for lunch or should I run for Russia?"

Mycroft sighed again. "Yes, yes, Mr. Robinson is clean. Not a bad thing on his record. Not even a parking ticket."

"Huh," Brandi said, "seems a bit odd. Doesn't everyone have at least on parking ticket?"

"Apparently not Samuel."

Brandi nodded. "Well alright. But if I sense anything is up, I'll give you a ring, okay? Just don't tell the boys. They'd strangle me in my sleep if they found out."

"Of course Brandi. Now I must go, I have an important meeting to attend."

"Alright cupcake," Brandi said, "I'll call you soon."

"What that a joke on my weight-"

Brandi hung up the phone and tossed it in the cup holder. Larry looked at her awkwardly for a moment before asking, "Was that your...umm...boyfriend?"

Brandi let out a laugh. "Oh hardly! That was Sherlock's brother Mycroft. He's super rich and works for the government so he was able to pull some strings and set up my trip for me."

"But you called him cupcake."

"He's on a diet so I call him things like cupcake, baby cakes, and sugar to mess with him. Drives him crazy, but everyone at home loves it."

Larry was quiet a moment before murmuring, "So they are your family now? And...London is home now? Not Shannon? Not your actual family?"

Brandi nodded. "Yeah. Pretty much sums it up."

* * *

Brandi and Larry stood in the main room of the Adare Manor, looking around in awe. "Okay," Brandi said nodding, "when I get home, remind me to snog Mycroft senseless."

It was safe to say the Adare Manor was a fabulous hotel. It was really more of a castle. A grand piano stood in the lobby, with posh furniture and marble everywhere. Definitely not something Brandi could've afforded.

Larry leaned over a murmured, "I may just fly home with you and snog him myself."

Brandi scoffed. "But you aren't staying here."

Larry nodded. "No, but I am your friend, and friends let their friends hang out at their fantastic hotels and play golf and swim in the indoor pool."

Brandi rolled her eyes. "Whatever."

Once Brandi had checked in and she and Larry were lounging in her room, Brandi pulled out her phone and texted Mycroft. _I love you. I really do. Thank you so much for the brilliant hotel room. -B _After while Mycroft did manage a response. _You're welcome Brandi. Though do refrain from using such affections. MH_

Brandi rolled her eyes and tossed her phone onto the king size bed. Larry had somehow found himself laying in the middle of the room floor on a thick, lush carpet. Brandi raised an eyebrow and looked at him curiously.

"You smell terrible, by the way," Brandi told him.

Larry rolled his eyes. "Someone is still as blunt as always," he muttered.

"And you're grumpier than you were five seconds ago."

Larry sat up and shot Brandi a look. "At least I wasn't the one driving after having whisky," he grumbled.

Brandi waved it off. "Oh you know alcohol doesn't actually have an effect on me. Remember when Hestia had me tested?"

Larry nodded and flopped back onto the floor. "Yeah that's right. Something to do with-"

"My genetic structure. You know we go over this every time I see you."

Larry's phone went off and he pulled it out of his pocket. He read the message before muttering, "We have to be at your parent's place in a hour for dinner."

Brandi groaned and flopped down into a nearby arm chair. "Oh course we do. Go shower, you smell like the pub."

Larry snorted. "So do you."

Brandi sniffed her shirt and grimaced. "True," she coughed. "No thanks to your bloody cigarettes."

Larry rolled to his feat and strode to the bathroom. "Well I am going to shower and then catch a taxi to your parents' place."

Brandi felt confused. "Well you can ride with me in the car!"

Larry laughed. "Sorry princess. Don't feel like waiting two days for you."

Brandi glared at him. "Piss off," she muttered.

* * *

Brandi sat inside the BMW (One Foot Wrong by P!nk playing softly in the background), parked down the street from the house, truly debating on whether or not actually joining them for dinner was a good idea. "I could always just call and tell them something came up," Brandi considered. "Then again that lie will end sooner rather than later. Or, I could just go in, talk for a minute, mooch off on the appetizers, then have someone text me and say I needed to leave. That could work. Maybe the boys could use a consultant for something. Heh, that's funny, a consultant for the consultant. Yeah, that's good, I'll have to remember that one."

Brandi groaned dramatically as she came to the realization that she had to suffer through dinner with her moronic family. She pulled away from the curb and drove the rest of the way to her parents'. Brandi pulled into the drive and parked the BMW.

Not even bothering to knock, Brandi walked straight into the house and headed silently to the dining room. She was relieved to find that everyone was in deep conversation with someone. Brandi slipped into the nearest corner and kept her head down.

Sadly her sanctuary was invaded by Hestia once again. "Oh Brandi, darling!" she said dramatically and loud enough that people in South America could here her.

Brandi winced and shot Hestia a nasty look. "I wish you'd quit calling me that," she muttered.

Hestia waved off the comment. "Oh of course you don't, darling. Now you must give us all better details about that accident of your's!"

Hestia pushed Brandi into a chair at the table and soon everyone else was seated. Larry shot Brandi a pitiful look. Brandi looked down at the table and thought quickly on what she would say.

After a moment she looked up and studied everyone's faces. Brandi was so...out of place. Everyone either had blonde or brown hair, green or blue eyes. But Brandi? She was the weird red haired, brown eyed girl of the lot.

Brandi licked her lips and started softly, "When I moved into my new flat, I met my best friends...my family...Sherlock Holmes and John Watson." Hestia and a few others seemed disgusted when Brandi referred to the boys as 'her family'. Brandi didn't care, and she continued, "Through them I met my mate DI Greg Lestrade and a good friend Mycroft Holmes, Sherlock's brother. Sherlock and John were working on a case, a serial killer had murdered seven women over the course of three months.  
"Now all the women had similar characteristics; red hair, brown eyes, and the same initials: B.P. So I went with Sherlock and John and helped them on the case. Funny enough, I was perfect as bait because I had the same characteristics. And I was okay with being bait. But it wasn't to prove myself to the boys, it was because I knew that if I _didn't _help, the killer might never have been caught. I might have even been killed.

"So while I was being bait, the killer chases after me. Okay great, I thought, 'Well this is it, I'm going to die'. But John calls me from across the street. Now none of you dare blame John for this, but I wasn't paying attention, went to run across to the boys, when a taxi hit me.  
"So bing, bang, boom, I go into a coma for four days. And I actually got off easy, believe it or not. All I got was a cracked rib, minor skull fracture and a concussion. Definitely could have faired worse.

"So...now you all know. And to be honest, I can't wait for the next case with my boys. They are the most amazing people in the world and I wouldn't trade them for anything in the world."

Brandi looked at everyone again. They all stared at her in awe. Brandi sighed and looked back down at the table. Right now, all she wanted to do was run from the room.

Finally, Brandi's Aunt Daphne spoke up, "Well I don't know about anyone else, but I don't like the sound of these men." Brandi clenched her teeth and stared angrily at the table. "They sound dangerous and they are taking Brandi away from us."

Everyone, except Larry and Brandi, murmured in agreement. Brandi slammed her fist down on the table, causing everyone else to jump in surprise. Brandi looked up and glared at everyone around the room.

"You never _had _me!" Brandi hollered angrily. "You all _hate_ me! It doesn't take a bloody genius to figure that much out! I've known since I was twelve years old that I was only around for you lot to exploit. Particularly you Hestia! You were just a bloody mommie dearest weren't you?"

Hestia stiffened and looked at Brandi tartly. "I don't know what you're talking about," she replied.

Brandi looked at her in disbelief. "You are so stupid! All my life you were always telling me how much _better_ I could be. Sending me off to the nannies first chance you got because you couldn't stand to be around me!

"Your freak of a daughter who enjoyed magic and fantasy over frilly dresses and makeup! Well guess what Hestia, I went into those worlds to get out of the one I was living! Why? Because it sucked, that's why!

"And guess what, I have a real family now! And a woman I actually would be proud to call my mum! Her name is Mrs. Hudson, she's my landlady, she's seventy-six years old, and she was better to me in three weeks than you ever were in thirty-three years!

"So I cannot wait for Sunday when I get home and she gives me a loving hug, and she'll offer me tea, and you know what? I am going to accept that offer and tell her how wonderful it is. Because Mrs. Hudson, Sherlock, John, Greg, Mycroft, and my boss Molly Hooper and the greatest blessings you can receive after thirty-three years of hateful, disgusted, unloved, and neglected _life_!"

Brandi rose from her chair and looked at everyone, who all looked shocked and disgusted by Brandi's outburst, one last time. "Now," she said more calmly, "I am going to my hotel to talk to my boys. Then I am going to the pub. Larry, it will be the same one from earlier if you came to join. And by the way, it's a shame I can't get wasted, because I really want to."

Without waiting for a response this time, Brandi stormed from the house. She climbed into her car and drove quickly to the hotel. Brandi nodded softly to the valet as he took her car to parking. Brandi made her way up to her room before collapsing onto the bed.

"I think that went well," she said into the duvet.


	23. Murder At The Preston House: Chapter 3

Ohana Means Family. Ohana Means, Nobody Gets Left Behind. Or Forgotten.

Brandi sat at the desk in her hotel room. She flipped open her laptop lid and pulled open Skype. Brandi hit the video call button on John's profile and waited. It rang once...twice...three times before John answered. He was sitting in the kitchen, Brandi noted.

"Hi John," Brandi greeted him with a smile.

John smiled back at her. "Brandi, how are you?" he asked.

There was the sound of running foot steps from John's end, and then Sherlock appeared in the frame, hair ruffled and he looked flustered. "Brandi! Thank god!" he cried. "I am_ bored_! Come home!"

Brandi gave Sherlock a small smile and rolled her eyes. "Sweetie, I honestly can't wait," she said, "but you know I can't leave my parents early."

Sherlock furrowed his brow. "No I really don't. It's clear you hate them and obviously you just had a huge fight with them. So why not come home?"

Brandi shrugged. "I dunno. And I'm not completely alone, I have my cousin Larry. He's not so bad. Unlike everyone else in my family, he actually knew I was hit by a car not less than a month ago."

John gaped at the screen. "Are you serious?" he asked. "Your own family didn't know you were hit by a car?"

"You wonder why I hate them," Brandi replied. "They are a sorry excuse for ohana."

John looked confused. "Ohana?"

"Ohana means family," Sherlock explained. "Ohana means..."

Brandi gave Sherlock a small smiled. "Nobody gets left behind."

"Or forgotten."

"Wouldn't have taken you for a Disney man."

Sherlock shrugged. "I was twenty-six and was having a bad day, some how that line from the film stuck with me."

John still looked confused. "Sorry what film?" he asked.

Brandi gave a soft laugh. "Lilo and Stitch," she told John. "We'll watch it when I get home."

John smiled and shook his head in disbelief. "I'm forty years old and can honestly say I thought my watching Disney movie days were over."

Brandi smirked. "Well now one of your best friends is a thirty-three year old woman who loves Disney. Deal with it."

Sherlock smirked as well. "Well thank you Brandi, I am no longer bored."

"You're welcome, gorgeous. Now it's about time I started heading off. Promised Larry I'd meet him at a pub."

John gave Brandi a small wave. "Bye Brandi," he said.

Sherlock waved too. "Bye," he murmured.

Brandi smirked and exclaimed, "I hope someday to meet you in glory of battle where I will crush the life from your worthless human form. Try and get some rest." Both boys looked at her oddly. "Strax, Doctor Who, A Good Man Goes To War," Brandi explained. "You should watch it, good episode, odd ending."

John smiled and shook his head. "Bye Brandi."

Brandi smiled back. "Bye John."

Brandi signed out of the video chat and closed her laptop. She sighed and put her hands in her head. These next two days were going to be the worst days of her life. Before she was just alone, but now she was alone and separated from the ones she loved.

* * *

Brandi didn't go to the pub that afternoon. It was already late anyway. Instead, she took a hot shower and crawled into bed. _Ohana means family. Family means nobody gets left behind. Or forgotten. _Those words kept turning over in Brandi's head. Then, the stress of the day weighed down on her.

Her family probably hated her even more by now. And her voice had gone scratchy from all the yelling and whisky. Brandi groaned hoarsely and rolled over onto her stomach. _Ohana means family_.

"I miss my ohana," she murmured pathetically. Brandi sighed and picked up the hotel phone off the bedside table. She hit the room service button and waited a moment before the call was answered. "Hello I'd like a bottle of your finest whisky and a plate of spaghetti sent up to room 231," she requested.

The young man on the other end replied with a happy, "Yes ma'am! Will there be anything else?"

"No thanks."

"Well it'll be right up!"

Brandi hung up the phone and pulled her pillow on top of her head. She missed her bed at home. With her TARDIS comforter and Gryffindor throw...and her Hobbit pillow...she missed her bed.

A knock came to the door and Brandi rolled out of bed. She walked over to the door and pulled it open, it was room service. Brandi motioned to the desk. "Just leave it there," she muttered.

The lad from earlier smiled at her. "Yes ma'am!" Brandi collapsed on the couch as the lad, his name pin said Tom, set the tray of food on the desk. "Will you be requiring anymore of my services tonight?"

Brandi shook her head. "No Tom."

"Well good afternoon then!"

Brandi sighed as the door click shut. She waited a moment before getting up and walking to the desk. She took a long swig from the whisky bottle before turning to the spaghetti. Brandi scarfed down her dinner before sulking over to the couch with the whisky. She clicked on the telly and turned it to a Doctor Who marathon.

* * *

Brandi awoke the next morning to her phone ringing. She groaned, the empty whisky bottle sitting on the table. _Thank goodness I don't get drunk_. Brandi picked her phone up off the floor where it had fallen over night and hit the answer button.

"Brandi!" Larry greeted. "Where were you yesterday? You never showed up at the pub!"

Brandi groaned and ran her hand down her face. "Sorry Larry...I guess I just needed to clear my head," she replied.

Larry chuckled. "Doctor Who marathon and whisky again?"

Brandi picked up the empty bottle and examined it. "Best date ever."

Larry sighed. "That kind of thing could kill you though," he said.

Brandi groaned again. "Yeah and when I go to the house today everyone there is going to kill me!"

Larry snorted. "Yes they are."

Brandi sighed and set the bottle on the table. "Might as well die happy," she muttered. "You gonna be at brunch?"

"Yeah, sadly," Larry responded. "You can't imagine what it's like staying here with them."

"They talk about me much?"

Larry snorted. "Not a word actually."

A piercing scream came from Larry's side. Brandi stood up at the sound. "What was that?" she asked.

Larry sounded shaky and Brandi heard him open a door. "I have no idea," he said slowly. Brandi heard the scream again, then Larry's running foot steps.

"Larry?" Brandi asked. "Larry!" There was another scream as Larry opened a door. Then came Larry's scream. "Lawrence!" Brandi hollered.

Larry shouted frantically into the phone, "Brandi! Come quick! It's Daphne! She's dead!"

* * *

After haphazardly getting dressed (basically Brandi managed to pull on a clean pair of grey sweatpants, a 'I heart heart Time Lords' t-shirt, and a pair of Uggs) Brandi threw on her jacket and rushed to her parents' house. Police already surrounded the house, with cation tape up, not letting people in, the whole shebang pretty much. Brandi pulled up to the curb and rummaged through the center console of the BMW until she found the police ID badge that Sherlock had stolen from Sally Donovan for her.

Brandi got out of the car and walked up to the police line. She flashed the officer the badge and said, "Sargent Donovan. New Scotland Yard."  
The officer nodded and raised the police tape. Brandi nodded back and started walking to the house. When she got inside, Larry was talking to an officer. She walked over and flashed the badge to the officer.

"Sargent Sally Donovan," Brandi said, "what appears to be the problem."

The officer nodded to her. "Detective Inspector Polk," he said. "If you don't mind me asking, Sargent, why are you in your pyjamas?"

"Because I had to rush out the door to get here, Inspector Polk. Now, what appears to be the problem?"

Polk nodded to Larry. "I was just talking to this young man, he was here when the body of a Mrs. Daphne Preston was found."

Continuing the charade, Brandi turned to shake Larry's hand. "Larry Preston," he said shakily.

"Hello Mr. Preston," Brandi said. "Now I need you to tell me everything that happened, from the beginning."

Brandi pulled a pen and notebook from her jacket as Larry started to explain, "Well, I was in my room, on the phone with a mate-"

"Who was this 'mate' of your's?" Brandi asked, mainly to push his buttons.

Larry gave Brandi a warning look and cleared his throat. "Uh, just a-just a mate of mine. Norman Bates." Brandi rolled her eyes. "And I heard someone scream-"

"Did you ever find out who screamed?"

Larry nodded. "Yeah, it was my Uncle Peter."

Brandi nodded as she took her notes. "And your Uncle Peter, was he married to Daphne?"

"Yes, umm, Daphne was my aunt."

"Any children?"

"Just my cousins Cassidy and Lola."

Brandi nodded again as she scribbled down the facts that she already knew. "Okay and what happened after you found your aunt and uncle?" she asked

Larry cleared his throat and shifted from foot to foot. "Umm...my aunt was just lying there on the bedroom floor, she was stabbed in the back and there was...blood, there was blood all over the floor."

Brandi could tell that this was hard on him, so she just nodded. "Thank you."

Brandi walked off towards the crime scene. When she was inside, the scene was disturbing. A white sheet covered her aunt's dead corpse. Blood had stained the persian rug. Brandi walked over to one of the crime scene investigators. She flashed her badge again.

"Sargent Donovan, New Scotland Yard," she said.

The CSI agent stood up and showed Brandi his badge. "David Times," he said.

Brandi stuffed her hands in her coat pocket and looked around the room, attempting to hone in on her deduction skills that Sherlock had taught her. _Corner of the rug nearest to the door, upturned. Blood spatter in the direction of the bed, but the body was lying in the wrong direction. The body's head was in the direction of the door, but if the killer stabbed her in the back and the blood spatter was in the direction of the bed, that the body's head would be in the direction of the bed, not the door._

Brandi cocked her head and spun on her heel to look at Agent Times. "Has the body been moved, or anything really, been moved?" she asked.

Time shook his head. "No, the body was found this way, the husband and the nephew confirmed it," he replied.

Brandi nodded slowly. "Agent does it seem a bit peculiar to you that the body is laying in the wrong direction?"

Times looked at her curiously. "I'm sorry?"

Brandi crouched next to the body and pointed at the blood spatter. "The vic was stabbed in the back correct? But the vic's head is pointing towards the door. The blood spatter is pointing towards the bed. If the vic had been stabbed in the back then her head would be in the direction of the bed, no the door, or vise versa." Brandi rose to her feat and looked back at Times. "May I speak with the husband? In private."

* * *

Brandi stood in the study of the house as her uncle walked in, closing the door behind her. Peter looked at her, startled to see her. "Brandi," he said breathlessly. "But I would told-"

Brandi waved it off. "That you'd be speaking with Sargent Sally Donovan," she interrupted. "Yes I know. All my family back in London know her, she's an annoying prat, so Sherlock swiped her badge for me."

Peter looked at her with curiosity. "You're pretending to be an officer?" he asked.

Brandi shrugged. "Honestly I am a much better detective than Sally could dream of being." Peter shook his head in disbelief. "Peter...please, I need you to tell me everything. Mainly," Brandi turned from pity to stone cold seriousness, "why was the body facing in the wrong direction?"

Peter looked scared, nervous and guilty. "Excuse me?" he asked in disbelief. "You think I killed my wife?"

Brandi walked to the door and looked at Peter angrily. "Oh I know you did. Now I just have to prove it."


	24. Murder At The Preston House: Chapter 4

Whisky, Wine, and Confrontation

Brandi sat in her hotel room clicking through the files and texts of Peter's netbook and cell phone. She had snatched his brief case from the living room of the house on her way out. Nothing had been suspicious so far. The phone was just a basic flip phone. The only contacts on it were either work or family members, and Brandi was able to recover the deleted texts, of which there were none.

The netbook was clean as well. No suspicious emails or files. But a few web searches were concerning. One was, _how to clean blood stains from a rug_, that was searched three days ago. Another was, _how to burry a body to keep from being found_, and that was searched two weeks ago.

Brandi logged onto Peter Facebook page and pulled up his messages. And one name raised an eye brow. Leeann Wong. Brandi recognized the name from somewhere...but where? She grabbed her own laptop and did a Google search, _Leeann Wong and Peter Preston_. The first result was for a high school, specifically, Wallace High School, where Peter went to high school with Ms Wong, apparently.

Suddenly, Brandi's computer started to ring. Group video chat from Mycroft Holmes with Sherlock Holmes and Greg Lestrade. Brandi clicked the answer button. Then almost all of her family's faces where on her laptop screen.

"Hello boys," Brandi chimed as she turned back to Peter's netbook.

"Brandi," Greg said, "why are you pretending to be Sally?"

Brandi glanced at Greg before turning back to the netbook. "So you found out about that?"

Mycroft cleared his throat. "I told him, Brandi," he said.

Brandi smirked. "Mycroft, darling, how are you?"

"I'm fine, Brandi. Let's keep to matter at hand."

Brandi nodded. "Of course. Okay you boys know what's going on right?" The boys all murmured in agreement. "Righty-o, well I took his netbook and phone. Nothing suspicious on his phone, but I found something on his Facebook. Messages from an old high school friend, Ms Leeann Wong."

"That's not uncommon," Sherlock spoke up.

Brandi smiled. "Ah and the other Holmes speaks!" she said happily. "Hello Sherlock, where's John?"

John appeared behind Sherlock. "Hello Brandi," he said.

"John! Good man. Grab a seat. Now to continue off of what Sherlock said, yeah it isn't like that. Ms Wong was sending some...umm...naughty messages to my uncle."

All the boys raised their eyebrows. "Excuse me?" Greg asked.

Brandi cleared her throat and said, "Example, can't wait to see you tonight, I'll make sure to wear something with lace. I know how you like that."

Sherlock leaned forward in his seat. "Your uncle was having an affair."

Brandi nodded slowly. "Yep. And he wasn't very good and cleaning up his tracks."

"What do you mean?" Mycroft asked.

"Well there were two web searches. One was on how to burry a body and keep it from being found. And another was how to clean blood stains from a rug...I think he was planning this."

"Yeah but why?" John asked. "Why not just get a divorce from Daphne? Why'd he have to kill her?"

"Ever been in a divorce, John?" Greg asked, John shook his head. "Well believe me, sometimes you just think it'd be faster to kill the other person."

Brandi sighed and put her head in her hands. "So Peter kills Daphne to be with his mistress?" Brandi asked.

Mycroft nodded. "It would appear so," he murmured.

Brandi sighed. "What do I tell his kids?" she asked. "And how to I go about confronting him."

"Invite Peter to dinner," Sherlock said. "Confront him then. He will either confess or try to kill you as well."

Brandi sighed. "Of course he will."

* * *

Brandi and Peter sat in the hotel's bar. Mycroft had arranged for it to be a private affair, the only person in the bar being the bartender. Brandi and Peter studied each other in silence, Peter sipping his wine and Brandi her whisky.

Brandi took one last swig of her drink before setting it down on the table they sat at. "So, Ms Wong?" she asked.

Peter straightened up and looked at Brandi suspiciously. "How could you know about Leeann?" he asked.

"Not denying it then?"

Peter sniffed angrily and leaned with his elbows on the table. "No sense in it. Now, how. Can. You. Know?"

Brandi smirked and leaned back in her chair. "So you are having an affair with an old schoolmate. Why?"

"Leeann was much more than an old schoolmate."

Brandi studied him a moment more. "Oh," she said as she figured out the missing piece to the puzzle. "This wasn't just some fling, was it? No, no, no Peter you were in love. And it was very...passionate."

Peter glared at the young mortician. "What are you implying?"

"Leeann was pregnant, wasn't she?" Brandi asked. "But she got pregnant after you married Daphne, right? Probably already had Cassidy? So you ran, you stayed with Daphne, had Lola and lived your life. But let me guess, Leeann contacted you, and it would have been, what, twenty years later? And then the affair started back up, and you fell in love with her.

"Now both your girls are already grown, so would your child that you had with Leeann. So you killed Daphne, but you screwed up."

Peter studied Brandi before asking, "How?"

Brandi glared at him. "You didn't factor in my being here. I hate you guys, really I do, and I won't miss Daphne for a second. But that fact that you thought you could get away with murdering someone while I was around is pathetic. My _best friend_ is _Sherlock bloody Holmes_. He's trained me in ways you can't even believe."

Brandi sighed and rose to her feet. "I look forward to seeing you behind bars, Peter Preston."

As Brandi walked away, Peter called out, "Brandi!"

Brandi turned just as a fist collided with the left side of her face. She let out a shout as she landed on the table behind her. "Should've guessed you'd fight me," Brandi grumbled. "Didn't your mother ever tell you not to hit women?"

Peter swung another punch but Brandi dodged out of the way. She scrambled to the bar and jumped over it. As she heard Peter fumbling his way to the bar, Brandi grabbed an empty wine bottle and jumped up to hit Peter in the head with it.

But all did not go as according to plan. A teeth throbbing _crack_ filled the air, and Brandi let out a scream. The bottle fell from her hand and Brandi cradled her right arm at her side. Oh it was broken. You didn't need to be a doctor to know that.

The bottle shattered on the floor and Brandi scrambled to run from the bar. She may not look it, but Brandi was very fast when she needed to be. Even when she was injured. Brandi sprinted from the bar and out to the hotel lobby.

Brandi heard Peter slam the bar door open as he ran after her and Brandi's pace increased by one hundred percent. She flew through the lobby and out the doors of the hotel.

And just as Peter exited the hotel, the whirl of police sirens filled the air. Peter came to a screeching halt as twenty police guns were trained on him.

* * *

Mycroft Holmes stood next to Brandi as she had her cast for her arm put on at St. John's Hospital in Ireland. Brandi glared down at the cast then looked at Mycroft in disdain. The doctor nodded at Brandi as she finished before leaving Mycroft and Brandi alone.

"Thanks for flying up here, Mycroft," Brandi murmured. Brandi patted the beside her on the hospital bed. "Sit down. You look like crap."

Mycroft nodded stiffly and sat down beside her. "The moment Sherlock suggested that you confront Peter Preston on your own, I had Anthea get a plane ready to take off for Shannon, Ireland," he murmured. "Good thing I did, too. I don't think that doctor would still be alive if I hadn't been here to calm you down."

Brandi smirked and chuckled softly. "I wouldn't have hurt the nurse," she replied. "I promise."

Mycroft smirked as well. "I suppose that was meant to reassure me?" he asked.

Brandi shrugged, then winced as a sharp pain shot through her right arm. Mycroft looked at her pitifully. "Yeah I suppose it was," she muttered before shooting the cast another nasty glare. "God I hate this thing," she grumbled.

Mycroft sighed. "It's only for six weeks," he explained.

Brandi sighed in acceptance. "I know. But I can still go to work right?" she asked. "It's just a broken arm. And all I do is get bodies ready for funerals...my job really is morbid."

Mycroft smirked. "Someone has to do it, and someone with your acceptance that death is the natural order of things makes you good at what you do."

Brandi let out a long breath. "Yeah I guess so. So when can I fly home?"

"You will be able to take your flight to London tomorrow as was arranged," Mycroft answered. "I imagine my little brother and his lover would enjoy getting to pick you up at Heathrow. I also can imagine you would like to say your goodbyes to your family and that cousin of yours."

Brandi looked at him curiously. "Do you mean Larry?" she wondered.

Mycroft nodded. "I spoke with Lawrence while you were being x-rayed. He is a respectable young man, Brandi."

Brandi scoffed. "I really hope that wasn't you giving me your blessing, Mycroft." Mycroft looked at her with confusion. "He's my cousin and he's an idiot. No way in hell would I ever go out with him. That would just be weird."

Mycroft chuckled. "No of course not." He paused for a moment before sighing and saying, "I'm sorry Brandi. But I must be making my leave. I have important meetings to attend to."

Brandi and Mycroft rose from the bed and Brandi gave Mycroft an one armed hug; Mycroft hugged her back, being careful of her arm. They pulled away and Brandi smiled at Mycroft. "Thanks again, Mycroft. For everything," she said happily, the spark that had been gone the last forty-eight hours back in her eyes.

"I will see you in London. How about we meet for lunch at my office on Wednesday?" he asked.

Brandi smiled again. "That would be great Mycroft."

Mycroft nodded softly. "You have already been discharged from the hospital, the BMW is waiting for you out front. And don't forget to be at the airport by noon tomorrow."

Brandi rolled her eyes. "Yes nanny," she joked. Then she turned soft and serious. "See you Wednesday."

They duo walked from the hospital room, Mycroft went in one direction and Brandi in the other. Brandi walked out the front doors of the hospital; she was grateful to find that there were not reporters outside. Last time she wound up on the hospital, the press had swarmed Bart's, attempting to get the latest dirt on the new addition to the 221 family...that really came out wrong.

Brandi smiled as she walked over to the valet. "BMW?" she asked.

The valet smiled, gave Brandi a nod, before rushing off to fetch her car. Soon the valet returned, pulling up to the curb in the BMW. He hopped out and handed Brandi the keys with a nod. Brandi nodded back and climbed into the car. She was happy to find that the lad hadn't stolen her iPod.

After turning on the car, Brandi loaded up the song "Every Tear Drop Is A Waterfall" by Coldplay. She rolled down all the windows of the car and let the cold Irish air rustle through the open windows as she pulled away from the hospital and headed back to the hotel.

* * *

It was nearing two in the morning by the time Brandi arrived back at the hotel, where she was surprised to find Larry waiting for her in the lobby. Brandi smiled and walked up to him. He looked exhausted to say in the least.

"Hello Larry," she said tiredly. "Why are you here?"

Larry nodded and smiled weakly. "Uncle Peter was arrested," he said hoarsely. "Everyone is saying you're the one who cracked the case. I just wanted to come by and congratulate you in person."

Brandi nodded. "Thank you Larry," she said softly.

"Oh and message from you parents." Brandi nodded again. "They never want you to come back here again."

Brandi looked at him in surprise. Not that she cared, she hated it here, but it was still shocking to here that her own parents didn't want to see her anymore. "Right," she murmured. "Well, thank you for telling me Larry... I hope we see each other again."

Larry smiled. "I don't doubt that we will, Brandi."

Brandi smiled again before turning away and heading to her hotel room. She opened the door just as her phone, sitting on the desk where she left it, pinged that a new voice message had been left. Brandi walked over and picked up the phone. She clicked open the new message and pressed the phone to her ear.

_"Brandi!" John said in a frenzied panic. "Mycroft told us that you had gotten hurt! For the love of god answer the phone!"_

Brandi sighed and dialed John's number. It didn't even ring twice before John answered, even more panicky than before, "Brandi! Are you okay? We've been worrying! Even Sherlock is; though he won't admit it! And-"

Brandi laughed as she sat down on the edge of the desk. "John, calm down!" she giggled. "I'm just fine. At least this time I wasn't put into a coma!"

John let out an aggravated groan. "Do you have any idea how worried we were?" he asked.

"Apparently, pretty worried," she said.

John sighed and Brandi heard him sit down at the kitchen table. "Are you still flying into Heathrow?"

"Of course. Are you still picking me up?"

"Of course."

Brandi smiled. "Alright you," she laughed, "put that boyfriend of your's on the phone so I can yell at him for getting the crap kicked out of me."

Brandi heard John yell for Sherlock and soon the silky baritone voiced was saying, "Good morning Brandi."

Brandi rolled her eyes. "Morning gorgeous," she joked. "Now, never suggest I do any sort of confrontation on my own again. Got it?"

Brandi could _hear_ the smirk, and it drove her mad. "I thought you could handle it," he replied.

Brandi rolled her eyes. "I _did_ handle it. Peter was arrested," she said.

"Yes, well I suppose you did," he admitted.

Brandi smiled softly. "Alright, well I need to pack and get some sleep. Bye Sherlock."

"Sleep well Brandi," Sherlock said.

"I love you guys. Kissed John for me."

Sherlock chuckled. "I think I can do that. Good morning, Brandi."

Brandi smiled again. "Bye Sherlock."


	25. Murder At The Preston House: Chapter 5

Brief First Meetings and Warm Goodbyes

The next morning, the sun was shining brightly, not a cloud in the sky, and Brandi Preston couldn't be happier. As Brandi packed her clothes into her duffle bag, the song "Beautiful" by Ben Rector played on her laptop. Brandi didn't often partake in pop music, but Ben Rector was one of her exceptions to the rule; and she only listened to it when she was having a really happy day.

While Brandi was folding a pair of jeans (which is rather hard to do with only one good arm), a small piece of paper fluttered from her pocket and onto the bed. Brandi knit her brow and tossed the jeans onto the bed. She picked the card up and flipped it around; her features softened. It was Samuel Robinson's business card. Blimey, she had forgotten all about him through the entire mess.

Brandi sighed and set the card face up on her duffle, then she grabbed her phone off the bedside table and dialed the number on the card. She pressed the phone to her ear and waited, Samuel picked up on the forth ring. "This is Samuel Robinson speaking, who is this?" the older gentleman's voice asked.

Brandi leaned against the back of the couch and said, "Hey Samuel, it's Brandi Preston from the airport the other day."

"Ah Brandi," Samuel said as he remembered her. "Yes how could I forget? How are you my dear?"

"I'm doing okay...well, a little less than okay. I kinda got a bit beat up actually... Listen you said to call if my blood family ever drove me to crazy to call you and we'd meet up for lunch," Brandi said.

"Yes, and that offer still stands," he said.

Brandi nodded. "Well that's great, wonderful actually, because I'd like to take you up on that offer now."

Brandi could hear the smile in Samuel's voice as he said, "That would be lovely. Will you be anywhere near Shannon Airport today?"

"Yeah actually I'm going to leave for there in the next few hours, flying back to London today."

"Well how about we meet at a nice little cafe in Shannon. It's called L&H's."

Brandi smiled. "I'd really like that, Samuel."

* * *

L&H's was an odd little place to say in the least. Books lined one of the walls, crammed with everything from video game guides to classic novels. The wall behind the counter was lined with Lucky Cats, Nintendo character figurines, and Harry Potter snow globes. The rest of the blank wall space had movie, video game, and TV show posters pinned to them.

The menu itself was just as odd as the ambiance. It was a mix of traditional Japanese meals to a bit less than traditional Japanese meals and classic British food. There was tempura, sushi, soba and udon; but also fish and chips, shepherd's pie, cumberland sausage, and roast beef and Yorkshire pudding. And some of the less traditional Japanese things on the menu were Pucca (little fish crackers filled with chocolate), Melon bread (a sweet bun covered in crisp cookie dough), Papico (a frozen treat shaped in a bottle that tasted like a milk shake), and Pocky (pretzel sticks covered in chocolate); not to forget the British treats which included Jelly Babies, chocolate fudge, rum and raisin fudge, and sherbet lemons.

Needless to say Brandi was surprised that a man like Samuel Robinson would pick a place like this to eat at. But she liked it none the less. Brandi couldn't help but wonder if Samuel picked this place because he thought Brandi would like it, which she did. It almost made her sad that she wouldn't have a reason to visit Shannon for a while. Brandi felt in her element inside L&H's, and she only had that feeling in a video game store or a library.

Seeing as Samuel wasn't already there, Brandi walked up to the counter to order herself a cup of tea. No one stood at the counter so she decided to ring the bell on the counter. Suddenly a young woman with short blond hair appeared from around the corner. Brandi was a little amused by the woman's appearance.

She was easily younger than Brandi, probably only twenty-five (so she was really still just a girl in Brandi's opinion). The girl wore black rectangular glasses perched on the tip of her nose, loose fitting jeans, a pair of tan suede shoes, and a tan jumper over a green plaid collar shirt; and a earbud hung from one ear. Brandi couldn't help but notice how much the girl's outfit looked like John. Her name tag read, "Hailee".

Hailee gave Brandi a disregarding look before poking her head into the back room and shouting, "Lizzy! We have a customer!" Hailee gave Brandi another look, as if to say "you totally just ruined my jam session", which was a look Brandi often gave people, before climbing a ladder to the loft above.

Soon another woman (Brandi regarded her as a woman because she was obviously a bit older than Hailee) appeared from the back room. This woman, presumably Lizzy, if her name tag was anything to go by, had hair blonde hair like Hailee, but her's was much longer and pulled into a ponytail; and instead of green eyes, her's were more a bluish grey.

Lizzy wore jeans and a Kingdom Hearts 1.5 t-shirt, she also sported a pokéball necklace. Brandi was rather interested in Lizzy's shoes, which were Pikachu Converse, obviously handmade.

Lizzy gave Brandi an apologetic smile before shooting Hailee, who was watching in amusement from the loft, a glare. "Sorry about her," Lizzy apologized. "She's not exactly a people person."

Brandi raised an eyebrow. "Then why does she work in a cafe?" she asked.

Lizzy shrugged. "I dunno," she admitted. "I mean originally she wanted to be a detective, but it didn't work out. So she asked me if I wanted to run this mad old place with her. And so I guess we've just been running this place ever since."

Brandi smiled. "I have a friend who's a detective. Your friend reminds me of him, I think they'd get along. Or end up killing each other."

Lizzy smirked before turning to the register. "What can I get you?" she asked.

Brandi looked at the menu a moment before saying, "Umm, a cup of earl grey and melon bread please."

"That'll be two fifty please," Lizzy replied. Brandi set the money on the counter and waited a moment until Lizzy handed her the food with another apologetic smile. "Again, sorry about her." Lizzy and Brandi looked up to see Hailee roll her eyes and disappear back farther into the loft. "She's nice once you get to know her."

Brandi nodded. "I completely get it. Thanks."

Lizzy smiled. "You're welcome."

Brandi walked over to a table at a window and sat down. Sipping her tea and watching for Samuel. After about ten minutes of waiting, Samuel appeared from around the corner. Brandi sat up a bit straighter, wincing as a bit of pain shot through her broken arm again. Samuel looked around and when his eyes landed on Brandi he looked surprised.

He walked over at sat down around from her, studying her appearance with awe. Finally he asked breathlessly, "Brandi? What happen?"

Brandi smirked weakly and said, "Solved another case."

Samuel smiled. "Well you must tell me everything about it!"

Brandi shrugged stiffly. "Not much to tell. My aunt was found dead in her bedroom, I did a bit of detective work and found out that my uncle did it. When I confronted him he beat me up. But now that monster is behind bars and I get to fly home to London and be with my real family. Life is good."

Samuel smiled again and shook his head in disbelief. "Brilliant!... You've already paid for your food?"

Brandi nodded. "Yeah, don't see why you have to Samuel. You barely know me, and I called you after all."

Samuel sighed and rolled his eyes before slapping ten quid on the table. Brandi looked at him and he nodded his head in approval. Brandi rolled her eyes and stuffed the bill into her coat pocket.

"Just for the record, I don't usually accept money from people," Brandi pointed out.

Samuel shrugged. "Well you can't say that now," he murmured.

Brandi gave him a small smile. "Thanks Samuel."

"So when does your flight take off?"

Brandi looked down at her watch. "Two hours. I need to be at the airport in twenty minutes."

Samuel nodded. "So I am to take this as goodbye?"

Brandi gave him a sad smile and nodded. "Yeah, but not really. I'll give you a call when I get back to London. Let you know how I'm holding up."

Samuel smiled back. "I'd like that."


	26. Murder At The Preston House: Chapter 6

Homecoming

Brandi sulked through Heathrow airport, listening to her iPod. Of course neither of the guys bothered to meet her at baggage claim, and they weren't picking up their mobiles, so now she had to track them down. She carried her duffle with her good arm, being mindful of the fact that if she made a sudden movement she could hurt herself even further. A happy sigh escaped her lips as one of her favorite songs - "Freak Out" by Avril Lavigne - started playing on her iPod.

One of Brandi's eyebrows raised very slowly and she came to a halt. She gave the two men standing against the wall a few feet away a disbelieving look. Sherlock Holmes was looking about the airport; and John Watson was staring a Sherlock's rear, both men completely oblivious.

"Oh John, really? In an airport? Have some shame," Brandi scolded.

Both of the boys turned at looked at her happily; though the happiness dwindled when they saw her current state. Brandi shifted awkwardly from foot to foot and looked at the boys with caution.

Finally John spoke up, "Brandi," he said breathlessly, "what happened to you?"

Brandi shifted awkwardly from foot to foot again and muttered, "Let's just get home and I'll tell you once we're there, I promise." Then she straightened up, careful with her arm, and smiled. "Now, both of you give me a hug!"

John smiled and walked over, wrapping his arms around Brandi with care for a moment. He pulled away and smiled even wider. "We've missed you Brandi, last few days have been _hell_."

Brandi smiled back. "You've not no idea." Brandi looked over at Sherlock. "Get over here you!"

Sherlock smirked and walked over to her. He wrapped his own arms gingerly around her, Brandi hugging him back weakly, before pulling away. "Welcome home Brandi."

Brandi nodded. "Well not quite yet," she replied. "We're still in the airport."

John gave his boyfriend and best friend the classic John Watson charming smile and said, "Alright you two, let's get home. And Brandi can tell us what happened."

* * *

"Another Way to Die" by Jack White and Alicia Keys played in the background on Brandi's iPod as she and her boys sat in the living room of 221B. Brandi was lounging on the sofa, poking at her cast with annoyance. Sherlock was perched in his chair, probably trying to deduce what had happened to Brandi. And John was in the kitchen making tea for the trio.

John three mugs of tea for everyone. After everyone was settled and sipping their favorite brew, John made the comment, "Another Way to Die? I suppose I should have considered you a Bond fan, Brandi."

Brandi shrugged her good shoulder. "What can I say? I love a man in a tux," she admitted.

The trio sat there in silence again, just sipping their tea and enjoying the music. Once the song finally ended and switched to "Amber Waves" by Erin McCarley, John shifted in his arm chair and looked at Brandi good and properly. Brandi sat up and looked back at him.

"Yes?" she asked after a bit of an awkward stare down.

John sighed and asked, "What happened to you? We hadn't heard from you until 2 a.m., and we wouldn't have even known you were hurt until Mycroft phoned me. Not to mention you said you were fine-"

Brandi shot him a look. "I am fine," she corrected.

John shook his head. "No, no you aren't. You have a broken arm, that means you're going to be out of work for a week or two. Not to mention I am surprised you managed to get a black eye and a cut cheekbone. I'm honestly surprised a punch like that didn't snap your glasses half in two."

Brandi sighed. "John, I wish to thank you for the concern but I am honestly-"

"If you say 'fine' one more time, Brandi, god help you," John interrupted.

Sherlock nodded. "Yes, Brandi, even I can tell that you aren't feeling exactly well," he observed in that annoying way that he always did.

Brandi glared at Sherlock. "I feel just fine! Quit pestering me!" she snapped.

John seemed a bit taken back by her outburst, but Sherlock seemed perfectly unfazed. "Are you quite finished?" Sherlock asked after Brandi seemed to cool off.

Brandi sighed and nodded in defeat. "Yes I suppose I am," she murmured.

"So would you care explaining to us what happened last night?" John asked cautiously.

Brandi felt a pang of guilt. The look on John's face almost made him seem afraid to even attempt to talk to her. She put her head in her hand and looked down at the coffee table in embarrassment. Brandi hated hurting her boys. It had become one of her least favorite things to do.

Brandi sighed sadly and looked back up, both boys studying her. "I'm sorry," she said quietly. "I didn't mean to snap at you. It's just stressful. Everything is finally catching up to me."

John nodded, understanding. "It's okay, Brandi. You're safe now," he assured her.

Brandi nodded, and then she told the story. And during her tale, Brandi Preston began to cry. But not because her aunt had been killed or that her uncle had gone to prison. Not that she had been beaten or broken more time in the last two months than her entire life combined. But because she was happy. She was happy because during the entire time she told her story, John sat beside her with his arm around her shoulders, and Sherlock sat on the other side of her, and they listened. And for once in her life, Brandi knew what it felt like to be genuinely loved.

* * *

Brandi stared at her keyboard pitifully. "I can't play you," she murmured. Brandi pointed at her broken arm. "Uncle Peter kinda broke my arm... I mean, I guess I could always just play a piece with my left hand. Probably won't be as pretty with just one hand. But I suppose I can't exactly be picky right?" Brandi sighed and sat down on the bench. She positioned her left hand on the keys and started playing a gentle melody.

"Today is gonna be the day that they're gonna throw it back to you. By now you shoulda, somehow, realized what you gotta do. I don't believe that anybody feels the way I do about you now," Brandi sang the lyrics to "Wonderwall" by Oasis softly.

"Back beat, the word is on the street that the fire in your heart is out. I'm sure you've heard it all before but you never really had a doubt. I don't believe that anybody feels the way I do about you now.

"And all the roads we have to walk are winding. And all the lights that lead us there are blinding. There are many things that I would like to say to you. But I don't know how  
"Because maybe, you're gonna be the one that saves me. And after all, you're my wonderwall.  
"Today was gonna be the day but they'll never throw it back to you. By now you shoulda somehow realized what you're not to do. I don't believe that anybody feels the way I do about you now.  
"And all the roads that lead you there were winding. And all the lights that light the way are blinding. There are many things that I would like to say to you. But I don't know how.  
"I said maybe, you're gonna be the one that saves me. And after all, you're my wonderwall.  
"I said maybe, you're gonna be the one that saves me. And after all, you're my wonderwall.  
I said maybe, you're gonna be the one that saves me, you're gonna be the one that saves me, you're gonna be the one that saves me."

Sudden clapping startled Brandi out of the world she had secluded herself in. She turned to the front stairs to see Greg leaning in the door way clapping. Brandi gave him a soft smile. "I must say for only being able to use one hand, your playing is very beautiful," Greg complemented.

Brandi smiled and stood up from the keyboard. "Aw thanks, Greg," she said happily.

"If you don't mind me asking, where'd you learn to do that?" he asked.

Brandi smiled nervously. "Oh...um...well when I was sixteen, I kinda snuck out a lot, and one time I fell from the tree I climbed out on when I snuck out my bedroom window. I kinda sprained my right wrist. So during my recovery I learned that song one handed. And I'm rambling. Sorry, I'll just shut up."

Greg chuckled and smiled at her warmly. "Well I just wanted to come see you myself. Sherlock and John told me what happened yesterday night while they were visiting a crime scene."

Brandi sighed and looked and Greg with disappointment. "Oh what?" she asked sadly. "They're working a case without me?"

"You have a broken arm," Greg pointed out.

Brandi nodded. "Yeah and it's only Tuesday and I'm already bored! I can't go to work until the cast is off, Molly's orders."

Greg looked at her with pity. "I'm sorry Brandi. I wouldn't have let you on the scene anyway. Maybe Sherlock and John will let you review the case file?"

Brandi sighed and flopped down on the couch. "Maybe."

Greg sighed and sat down on the couch opposite to the one Brandi was splayed across. "You have lunch with Mycroft tomorrow, right?" Brandi nodded. "That's good. Mycroft's nice."

Brandi raised an eyebrow. "Nice? Mycroft? Detective are you taking an interest in our dear politician?" she asked.

Greg blushed slightly and shook his head. "No of course not," he said a bit quickly in Brandi's opinion.

Brandi smiled and shook her head. "Alright Greg," she said with amusement in her voice. "Alright..."

And it was then, it that Brandi felt contentment. Because everything was in order. She was back in London with her boys, her wonderful landlady/mother, and her mates. But most importantly her bed. Brandi loved that thing, it had been a nightmare to be away from it for so long. Life was good. Brandi shared a smile with Greg. Yeah, life was good.


	27. Lunch With Politicians Can Be Nice

Lunch With Politicians Can Be Nice

Brandi slid from the sleek, black car that Mycroft had sent to pick her up earlier. Anthea came out after her and the two women walked in an uncomfortable silence. It wasn't that they didn't like each other, in fact they were quite good friends, usually. But considering the current circumstances, both women would rather be away from each other.

It had all gone south when Anthea had picked Brandi up. Both of the boys and Mrs. Hudson were out (Sherlock and John were still working on their case for NSY and Mrs. Hudson was off doing the shopping for Brandi) and Brandi hadn't heard Anthea knock on the front door, so Anthea let herself in, naturally. Of course _that_ had been a mistake.

When Anthea walked down the stairs into Brandi's flat, she was surprised to find Brandi standing in the living room...in just a towel. Both women had froze and for once Anthea was a little speechless.

"I-I am sorry," Anthea finally managed to stumble out.

Brandi opened and closed her mouth for a moment (like a fish), attempting to find words. After a while she choked out, "Umm...well...hello Anthea. I see you let yourself in again."

Anthea looked down at the floor, her cheeks tinted pink. "I am quite sorry," she murmured. "I should have known better. Though I had assumed you were dressed. Clearly, that was my mistake."

Brandi nodded stiffly. "Yes, clearly," she replied. "I'm sorry but I thought I wasn't to be picked up until noon?"

Anthea looked up at her quizzically. "Didn't you receive the email informing you of the time change?"

"Email-what email?" Brandi asked herself as she rushed over to her laptop on the kitchen counter. She flipped it open and logged into her email.

-1 New Email

-Mycroft Holmes (MHolmes .uk)

-Subject: Lunch Time Change

-Dear Brandi,

I would like to inform you personally of a change in time for our scheduled lunch date set for tomorrow. I am afraid to say that I must request that your pick up time (currently scheduled for twelve p.m.) be changed to eleven-thirty a.m. Apologies for any inconveniences.

-MH

Brandi groaned and rolled her eyes. "Yeah a lot more than just an 'inconvenience' you insufferable git," she muttered, closing her laptop lid. Brandi turned to Anthea, who was currently beet red. "Let me pull on some clothes and we can get out of here."

Not waiting for a response, Brandi went quickly to her bedroom. She closed and locked the door behind her. Quickly, Brandi found an Iron Man sweatshirt and skinny jeans in her closet and pulled them on. She grabbed a pair of yellow Converse from under the bed and pulled them on as well (only after putting on her favorite pink and blue striped socks). On her way out of her room, Brandi grabbed her mobile.

When she returned to the living room, Anthea was in the same position that Brandi left her in. "Okay," Brandi said, "let's get out of here."

Anthea seemed to have returned back to her old self as she pulled out her Blackberry and started texting again. "After you, Miss Preston," she said, stepping out of the way for Brandi to go up the stairs.

Brandi rolled her eyes. "For the millionth time, Anthea, it's Brandi. Just Brandi. Even _Mycroft_ just calls me Brandi!"

Basically, that was what led up to the awkwardness between the two women. Needless to say, Brandi was planning to chew Mycroft out for not calling her. Anthea led Brandi through the Diogenes Club, earning many curious looks from the men, probably wondering why two women were in their sacred little club. Brandi had to restrain a sigh (the no talking rule pissed her off...epically).

Anthea knocked softly on Mycroft's door before walking inside. Brandi followed in after her and shot the politician a look. After Anthea was gone and the door was shut did Brandi finally speak, "Thought we were meeting at the office?"

Mycroft nodded, still flipping through the files he was looking at. "Yes, that was my original intention for our lunch," he replied distractedly. "Although, I have a meeting here in an hour and decided that it would be easier to change our time and meeting place." Brandi rolled her eyes and flopped down on the couch in the room, earning her a disapproving glance from Mycroft. "I see my brother's disregard for furniture is rubbing off," he observed.

Brandi snorted and rolled her eyes. "Oh golly Jiminy," she said sarcastically, "my disregard for furniture was there far before I met either John or Sherlock."

Mycroft raised his eyes from his files and then turned his full attention to the young woman sprawled across his Chesterfield leather sofa. "I am sensing disapproval," he stated.

Brandi sat up and looked at him in shock and loathing. "My god you are so clueless," she gaped. Mycroft gave her a look that told her to continue. "I mean _really_! You email me that day before we have lunch scheduled, and you don't think I'd be annoyed? I mean having this broken arm makes it much harder to do things! You think it's easy getting dressed with one arm?"

Mycroft shook his head. "No, I imagine it's rather difficult," he replied.

Brandi nodded. "Yeah, it really sucks, believe it or not!"

Mycroft looked at her apologetically. "I wish to inform you-"

"No, no, no," Brandi interrupted him. "I don't want any formal crap, Mycroft. Just bloody apologize and not act like you apologizing to your mummy for breaking her favorite vase."

Mycroft sighed and started over, "Brandi, I am sorry for changing the times and not making sure you knew. It was rude and impolite. And, to show how sorry I am, please order anything you want for lunch."

Brandi smiled and nodded. "Okay then."

* * *

About ten minutes later, Brandi and Mycroft were sitting at Mycroft's desk eating takeaway from Angelo's. "I swear," Brandi said between bites of shrimp penne, "no matter how often I eat Angelo's, it's still the best food in London."

Mycroft chuckled. "I should take you to The Dorchester," he commented.

Brandi pointed at him with her fork. "No," she said. "Two reasons, one, I hate French food, and two, nothing compares to Angelo's, so shut up. Besides, I know someone who wouldn't mind going to dinner with you."

Mycroft looked at her curiously. "Who?" he wondered aloud.

Brandi smirked. "Greg Lestrade fancies you," she said, a slight giggle in her tone.

Mycroft's eyebrows raised slowly. "Gregory Lestrade fancies _me_?" he asked in disbelief.

Brandi shrugged. "Well, we won't come right out and say it. I know he does, though. I was talking to him yesterday. I think he's really taken by you, Mycroft."

Mycroft chuckled and shook his head. "No, I think you were mistake, Brandi," he said.

Brandi sighed and rolled her eyes. "Fine, you're both in denial then!"

"No, we are not, because there is nothing to deny. Gregory does not have any feelings toward me. Though, if he does, Gregory is perfectly capable of telling me himself."

This earned a resounding groan from Brandi. "He's not going to though!" she moaned. "After a failed marriage, I highly doubt Greg is crazy about going on a date. Particularly with a Holmes! It would be like...I dunno, it would be like if he asked Sherlock out!"

Mycroft raised an eyebrow. "That would be quite odd considering Sherlock is currently courting Dr. Watson," he murmured.

Brandi looked at him in surprise. "Courting?" she asked, stunned. "You think they'll get married then?"

Mycroft nodded his head slowly, turning back to his files. "It seemed rather obvious to me," he said.

Brandi groaned, "Well we can't all be Mycroft Holmes, can we? But, in all seriousness, what makes you think they'll get married?"

Mycroft set aside his files again and gave his full attention back to Brandi. "My brother and the doctor have been close friends for nearly three years. Sherlock himself had been in love with Dr. Watson since Sherlock's return; we can only imagine how long John's been in love with him. I may not be in a, nor do I seek, relationship, but even I can see the way my brother and Dr. Watson look at each other."

Brandi smiled softly as images of the loving glances between Sherlock and John flickered through her mind. "Yeah," she replied distractedly, "so do I." Brandi snapped herself out of her dazed trance. "But that would be a not only a big step for John, but a gigantic step for Sherlock. And besides, they couldn't get married, it's illegal in the UK."

"No," Mycroft said, "but they could get a civil partnership."

Brandi's mouth formed an 'o' as she remembered that little fact. "Oh yeah," she said slowly. "I forgot about that."

"I would also be able to push the Marriage Act twenty-thirteen," Mycroft continued. "If someone in my position of authority were to push for it, it is more than certain to be passed."

Brandi gave Mycroft a respected look. "You would do that for them?" she asked.

Mycroft nodded. "Yes, I would. It may come as a surprise to everyone who hears it, but I do care for my brother. His safety and happiness are one of my top priorities; despite how mad that sounds."

Brandi smiled and nodded happily. "Well, Mycroft, I think I've found a whole new respect for you." Brandi stood up from the desk. "Although I must be taking my leave. I have to go pester you brother and John until they let me see the case files."

Mycroft rose from his desk. "It was lovely to see you Brandi, hopefully we will be able to meet for luncheon more often," he said. "I rather enjoyed it."

Brandi smiled back at him. "I had fun too, Mycroft. Call me, emphasis on _call_, if you ever wanna meet up again."

Anthea appeared through the door and waited for Brandi to walk out. Brandi walked into the hall and both women kept quiet as until they were on the street. Anthea motioned to the sleek, black car that was waiting for them to get it, but Brandi shook her head. Anthea gave her a questioning look.

"It's a lovely day, Anthea," Brandi said, looking at the clear November sky. "I think I'll just walk home."

Athena raised an eyebrow. "That's nearly three kilometers," she replied. "About a forty minute walk. Are you sure you're up to that?"

Brandi nodded. "Yeah, I can't stay inside all the time, can I?"

Anthea sighed and shook her head. "Suit yourself," she said before walking back into the Diogenes Club.

Brandi rolled her eyes and riffled through her pockets until she found her mobile and a pair of earbuds. She plugged the earbuds into her phone and popped them into her ears. Brandi scrolled through her library until she found a good song. "Still Into You" by Paramore played softly and Brandi slipped her phone into her pocket. And with she started her walk back to Baker Street, the warm sun shining down on her.


	28. Walking on Sunshine

It had been a week since Brandi's lunch with Mycroft. She found herself smiling goofily off into space at the thought of Sherlock and John getting married; even though she knew she shouldn't get her hopes up. Sherlock was a self proclaimed sociopath after all, and he would probably attempt to stick to that rule. Not to mention the everlasting rule that he was "married to his work".

Of course Brandi, and just about everyone else unless your name was either Anderson or Donovan, called BS on that. As Mycroft had pointed out, the way both Sherlock and John looked at each other shouted the love that they cherished for one another. So it was rather obvious that Sherlock was going to break any time soon; then it would be, "This is John Watson, my husband." Brandi figured it was a safe bet that she awaited that day as much as John did. Sadly it was "married to my work" for the time being.

Brandi let out a stressed sigh, and returned her attention to her laptop sitting on the kitchen bar. She had just received an intriguing email from Lestrade (from his personal email of all things):

-1 New Email

-Gregory Lestrade ( .uk)

-Subject: Access to Case Files

-Hey Brandi,

Just wanted to ask you if you still wanted access to the case files for the case that Sherlock and John had started last week. They're having a bit of trouble with the motive but don't want to ask you for help given that you're still recovering. But I know that you really wanted to help. So, if you're still interested, come down to Yard as soon as you can and I'll give you a copy of the files. Hope to see you soon.

GL

Brandi reread the email skeptically. "Sherlock is having trouble with a case?" she wondered aloud. "Really?"

But, Brandi knew that Greg wouldn't have come to her unless they really needed a fresh set of eyes to look it over. Brandi groaned and grabbed her phone and flat keys off the counter next to her. She closed her laptop and walked up the stairs to the hallway; after locking 221C's door behind her, Brandi walked out of 221 into the brisk November air.

Brandi allowed a small smile and a happy sigh to escape her lips. She loved that time between the end of fall and the beginning of winter. It was just before all the leaves were off the trees, but was as cold as the winter time.

Brandi decided to make the hour long walk to NSY (but only after popping in her trusty earbuds and cranking up "Back In Black" by AC/DC). She really wanted to run, but the doctor, and John, had advised against it. Running had been one of Brandi's favorite past times. But thanks to dear of Uncle Peter, that wouldn't be happening for another three weeks.

Soon Brandi's mind transitioned from the Supernatural episode that she had just finished before she checked her email, to Sherlock and John again. A slight smile grew across her features again. They really were one of the most adorable couples that Brandi had ever seen.

Brandi pulled out her phone and opened up her photos. Most of them were of herself and the boys. One of her favorites though was of the boys. The three of them had gone to the beach, by combined requests of John and Brandi. The sun was going down and Brandi had ran to the car they rented to grab her phone so she could tale pictures of the sunset.

When she had returned, she found a sight even more wonderful than the sunset. Sherlock and John had sat down in the sand to watch as the sun went down. Sherlock's head was resting on John's shoulder, and John had his chin on the top of Sherlock's head. It really was beautifully amazing; despite how weird that sounded.

* * *

Greg Lestrade sat in his office at NSY, drumming his fingers on his desk. It was a bad habit of his to tap his fingers when he was having to wait. Drove his ex-wife mad most of the time. In hindsight, probably one of the many, _many_ reasons they got divorced.

But Greg had moved on from his ex, and onto nicer, smarter, and patienter women. Lately, Greg had noticed he had become more...attracted by smarter women. It goes without saying hanging around grimy old pubs wasn't exactly helping very much. On occasion a woman that Greg found himself attracted to would show up there, but she was usually with someone...or a lesbian. And if it wasn't a combination of those things it just meant that Greg was really, quite terribly, bad with women.

Although, he couldn't help but keep turning the conversation that he had with Brandi the week before about him fancying the politician. Yes, Mycroft Holmes was a very clever man, and he wasn't exactly ghastly to look at. But you didn't have to be a genius to know that there were better looking men than the elder Holmes brother.

He wasn't saying though that he was only attracted to a person's looks. Greg had been...mildly raised on the idea that, "judging a book by its cover" was wrong and a bad thing. Sometimes he wished he had gone with his gut the first time he met Sherlock and not allowed the insufferable prat onto the crime scene.

Still he kept noticing his thoughts wondering back to Mycroft Holmes. He didn't exactly know if that was particularly normal or not. It certainly didn't happen with his ex-wife. _That_ had been an arranged marriage if he had ever seen one before.

There was just something about the astute politician that caught his attention. He was very clever, this was for certain. Not to mention that, despite Sherlock's denial of it, Mycroft did seem to have a caring heart. And, as stated prior, Mycroft wasn't horrid to look at. On those rare occasions, when it was just Mycroft and Greg and nobody was being incredibly annoying, Mycroft seemed to relax slightly and allow himself to enjoy life for a minute or two. Not to say that Mycroft didn't enjoy life, Greg was sure he did...in his own twisted way. At least he wasn't a serial killer, hopefully.

Suddenly, Brandi Preston came bounding in the door of his office, dancing to whatever song it was she was listening to on her phone. Greg smiled and leaned back in his chair as he watched Brandi's display of total self well-being. Brandi smiled at Greg and pulled out one earbud, still dancing to her music.

"Hey Greg!" she chimed happily.

Greg laughed and gave his friend a gleeful smile. "Afternoon Brandi," he greeted her back. "What are you listening to?"

Brandi smiled happily. "'Walking On Sunshine', Greg! And you know why?"

"Why?" Greg wondered.

"Because I realized on my walk here that life is too short for me to act depressed and pouty because of something as silly as a broken arm! I'm alive and you have me helping on a case! It's all turning around, Greg!" Brandi exclaimed happily.

Greg laughed and gave her a huge smile. "Alright you, come here and look at these homicide pictures for me."

Brandi's shoulders slumped and she looked slightly depressed. "Greg that was just morbid. I mean Sherlock says some morbid things...a lot. But that was just...mate."

Greg sighed and flopped the thick file down on the desk. "I know. Take a look."

Brandi sighed and paused her song. She sat down in the chair across from Greg and flipped open the file. There were _many_ dead bodies. More than Brandi favored to see that day. Some of the bodies were dressed in posh suits, other in jeans and sweatshirts. The only thing that seemed to link them was that their were all men.

Brandi shook her head and looked up at Greg for an explanation, "Okay what's the deal?"

Greg sighed. "We believe that one the big time drug lords is offing his dealers," he explained. "We don't know why though."

Brandi nodded. "So you know the bloke is killing his dealers, _but_ you don't have actual proof."

"Exactly."

Brandi suddenly deflated and her lips pouted a bit. "Aw Greg, let down of the day," she whined.

Greg raised an eyebrow. "Why not?"

Brandi groaned. "Oh Greg how am I going to find a motive without interviewing a crap ton of people first? I have a bloody broken arm! I am on medical leave-"

"You really just don't want to interview people, don't you?" Greg asked bluntly.

Brandi snapped her fingers on her good hand and pointed at Greg. "Now you're getting it!" she said happily. "But I will be taking your handy dandy little file and reading it in the comfort of my flat. Maybe I get pick something out of it."

Greg smiled slightly as Brandi stood up and grabbed the file off the desk, tucking it under her left arm. "Thanks Brandi," he said, "I really appreciate it."

Brandi smiled back as she walked to the door. "I'll call you if I sort anything out, love."

Greg smiled to himself after Brandi disappeared out the door. He began thinking about the odd young woman that had someone become one of his best friends. Brandi was kind, brilliant, quirky (in a good way), clever, witty, and you'd be a fool to not admit she was pretty. The red head had her own way of looking at the world that frankly Greg thought more people should envy.

You had to be someone who truly didn't care about the opinions of others to dance down the crowded London streets and through all of Scotland Yard. It was one of those qualities in a person that Greg himself had never encountered before. Or more than one occasion had Brandi done something that he considered 'socially embarrassing', and not cared at all.

A good example was once when Greg and Brandi had gone to the book shop because Brandi wanted to force Greg to read 'The Hunger Games' (which he did, by the way), Brandi decided it would be a good idea to give the cashier The Hunger Games salute. Now this would have been fine if Greg at the time knew what that was, or if the cashier knew what it meant either. That was not the case.

Greg smiled for what felt like the millionth time and turned around in his chair just in time to see Brandi dancing down the street again. "She really is a mystery, that one," Greg murmured to himself before turning back around and returning to his work.


	29. Battle of the Operating Systems

"I just can't fathom why you hate Christmas so much," John Watson said, shaking his head as he and Brandi Preston rode the escalator up to the second floor of the mall.

Brandi sighed and crossed her arms. "Because I grew up in a home where I was used for exploitation," she explained. "I probably had worse Christmases than Sherlock and Mycroft for god's sake! Sorry that was probably inappropriate for the holiday season."

John cringed slightly. "Yeah just a bit," he murmured, but then a warm smile broke out across his face. "But it's almost December, Brandi! Two more days! I'm going to be certain that you have a wonderful and joyous Christmas this year."

Brandi raised an eyebrow. "You do realize the Grinch lives two floors above me, right?" she asked.

John snorted and shook his head. "Well now that he's my boyfriend I think I may be able to persuade him into being a bit more Christmas spirited."

Brandi perked up a bit at the mention of this. "Think you could make him wear a Santa hat for me? Just for a quick picture to send to Larry. I won't really hear from him this year; he's going to Switzerland with his parents for the holidays. Promised each other we'd send photographs of Christmas to one another."

John nodded slowly. "I think I could manage that," he agreed cautiously.

Brandi grinned from ear to ear. "And maybe get him to kiss you under the mistletoe?" she pushed. "That wouldn't be for Larry, just you, me, Sherlock, and Mrs. Hudson."

John sigh softly as they stepped off the escalator and started walking towards one of the many electronics shops. Brandi trailed along after him and he said, "He really isn't into overly sentimental stuff like that, Brandi. You'd know that as well as I do. I dunno, I think even that is pushing our limits."

Brandi frowned slightly and nodded her head in agreement as she started playing with a Microsoft Surface 2. "Yeah probably," she admitted. "Still would make for a good picture though... You know I've always wanted one of these things."

John turned from his fiddling with the newest iPad Air to look at what she was talking about. "What you've never used anything Apple before?" he wondered.

Brandi shrugged. "As a kid I always had to buy things for myself, never was the latest and greatest for me. Guess I still am that way. Besides that iPad is four hundred and eighty pounds; the Surface is only three hundred and sixty pounds. When you live on your own with no help from Mummy and Daddy, the choice seems rather obvious."

John sighed and shook his head. "Guess Sherlock and I will be getting you an iPad for Christmas," he murmured, turning back to the iPad.

Brandi groaned and turned around to stand next to him. "Don't buy me an iPad!" she stressed.

John shrugged. "Sherlock gets money from his parents once a month, a lot of money actually. He never would spend it on himself. Besides the second he finds out you are considering a Surface he'll rush out and get you an iPad."

Brandi groaned again. "I don't have to complain about boyfriends being annoying, I just borrow one of you two as an example!" John smiled and giggled mischievously. Brandi glared down at the short man. "Don't forget I am four inches taller than you, Watson."

John smiled cheekily. "And I was a solider."

Brandi snorted. "Yeah a doctor," she muttered.

John sighed and rolled his eyes. "Whatever, we still need to find something to give to Mycroft," he said.

"I still can't believe you drug me out on the day that half the flipping stores in this mall are doing sales. The entire place is packed full of idiots!" Brandi complained.

John laughed mockingly. "You're like a secondary Sherlock," he chuckled. "It's bloody fantastic."

Brandi glared at John before slapping his arm. "Watch it, Watson," she griped. "I will tackle you."

"Oh I am so sure you will."

Brandi gave John a loathing look. "Shut up."


	30. Tom Awaits!

Brandi bounded around 221C as she finished getting ready to see 'Thor: The Dark World' with Greg. She had sported her favorite Loki shirt (it was green and said 'Keep Calm and Join Loki's Army), black skinny jeans, green converse, and she wore a hoodie that when you zipped it up and put on the hood it looked like Loki's armor and helmet. And, after a few tries, Brandi had done her makeup green and gold. Obviously, she was very excited.

But _Greg_ was running late to pick her up. Brandi checked her phone for the millionth time but there was _still_ no missed calls or messages. She groaned frustratedly at the phone and shoved it in her pocket again.

"We are going to be late!" she shouted. It was then that Greg came bounding down the stairs. Brandi sighed and rolled her eyes. "Finally! Come on lets go!"

Greg rolled his eyes. "Great to see you too."

Brandi laughed and grabbed his hand, she pulled Greg after her. "Come on you! Tom awaits!"

Greg looked confused. "Tom?"

"You'll find out!"


	31. A Study In Foreshadowing

It was two in the morning. Brandi Preston sat cross legged at the head of her bed, across from her sat small eleven year old boy mirroring her stance. The boy had a mess of black curls, dark eyes, tanned skin, and he was a bit scrawny (probably from his lack of eating). His cheekbones prodded from his face like daggers. And, although his dark eyes were usually joyful and witty, tonight they were hurt and betrayed. Ladies and gentlemen, this is Harry Gregory Lawrence Watson-Preston-Holmes.

Brandi sighed and leaned across the bed, brushing a stray curl out of Harry's face. "It's going to be okay, Harry," she reassured him. "We're lucky compared to most people. Not everyone gets a second chance, let alone a third."

Harry's head snapped up. Brandi flinched at the pain and confusion in his eyes. "Why would he do it to us? Why? He has a family now! He's got Dad, you, and I!" Harry cried. "Why would he do it Mum? Why!"

Brandi felt tears pool in her eyes and pulled Harry into a hug. "He was protecting us, Harry," she said, her voice quivering. "Thats all your father can do anymore. He cares so much that he knows what will be the hardest for us is also the best for us."

"Why can't we just be a normal family and not have to worry about dying all the time?" Harry murmured.

It was an innocent question, but it still made Brandi feel about a dozen times worse. They had lost so many family members to this 'anonymous killer'. Brandi ached knowing that her son was growing up in a world like this.

Brandi felt a tear slip down her cheek and she kissed the top of Harry's head. "Because we aren't normal sweetheart. No matter how hard we try, we just aren't."

* * *

Brandi gasped, drenched in sweat as she was pulled from her dream. She sat upright, panting and attempting to sort out what had just happened. Brandi looked up at the ceiling and asked, "Okay God, what kind of foreshadowing was _that_?"


End file.
